


Questions I Have for a Sinner Like Me

by Cee693



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Espionage, F/M, Fake Marriage, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Spy Barry, Spy Iris, Undercover, kind of?, spies au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee693/pseuds/Cee693
Summary: Barry and Iris and a Spy Agency AU





	1. Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I start re-watching the entire Nikita series.

Barry Allen was good at his job.

That wasn't an opinion or brag; it was just a fact.

He knew he was good.

Great even.

He was efficient and he did his work with a subtlety that was almost unheard of.

He was clean, precise.

He never left a hair out of place.

He'd been honing in his craft for so long, he could barely remember what he'd ever wanted to be before all this.

An astronaut, maybe.

No, he remembered, a marine biologist.

There was a time when all he'd wanted was to dive head first into the ocean and never come back.

He'd wanted to live among every fish and sea creature he could imagine and he'd wanted to learn every possible thing he could learn about them.

He remembered being most fascinated with salmon.

He'd learned in school once that some species of salmon died when they laid eggs just so their babies would have nutrients to eat when they hatched. The parents died before they could see the babies they helped make, but they left them with the very first foundation of their existence.

That was the random thing he was thinking about as the beautiful woman in front of him finally wished the last of their guests goodnight.

Baby Salmon.

She turned him and smiled so widely, Barry almost felt remorseful.

He supposed the salmon wasn't totally random. It was a story he'd reflected on a few times in his life when he thought about his childhood. And unfortunately, Barry was feeling sentimental these days.

He smiled back at her.

And kept smiling until the sedative he had slipped into her wine glass 10 minutes beforehand finally took effect and she slumped back in her chair dead to the world, he was reminded that his view of the world was a lot like how he'd used to watch his fish aquarium.

An entire world of things that had no idea they were being observed and manipulated.

If he tapped the glass just right, they'd swim one way.

If he dangled bait, they'd swim another.

And if he used just the slightest bit of chemistry to make a small splash of bubbles, the fish would be so preoccupied; they'd never see him coming from behind to take them away.

The heiress had gone down easily enough.

Barry had upped what he knew was the necessary dosage of sedatives just to be thorough.

He checked her wrist for a steady pulse.

He hadn't seen the need to kill her.

Not when he'd be long gone with what he needed before she ever realized what he'd done.

He carefully picked her up and put her to bed before using her phone to send a believable enough text to her security detail about not waking her before noon.

After that, the black box was easy to recover from her heavily guarded safe.

Barry had gradually acquired the six passwords to open it over the three weeks he'd spent in her company.

She may have been the number two at a multi-million dollar security company, but Ms. Cooper needed to work on better protecting herself against how easily she let things slip with the right words of affection and charisma.

Barry pocketed the small, invaluable device and then spent the next half hour meticulously scrubbing any trace of him ever having been in her penthouse.

Right before he left to meet his transport, Barry turned back to the woman now asleep soundly in her bed.

She'd wake up tomorrow dazed and betrayed.

He felt a brief flicker of sympathy for that. He couldn't say that feeling was foreign to him. And in the end, her company had proven to be entertaining enough, if not pleasantly distracting.

The dinner party with her friends had been her idea to brighten his obvious mood. Especially after the news he got the day before.

Once Barry was out of her apartment and back in the chill of the night, the familiar feeling of precision and power fell away a little bit like it always did.

He slid into the black SVU waiting for him and nodded at the driver.

The man handed him a tablet which lit up when Barry scanned his thumb.

A message came through:

**MISSION COMPLETE.**

**PLEASE, RETURN TO HEADQUARTERS FOR DEBRIEFING AND REASSIGNMENT BRIEFING.**

Barry sighed and confirmed his schedule before shutting the tablet down.

Ms. Cooper and the others he handled weren't the only ones in a fish tank.

Barry had spent most of his life swimming around and around in an endless bowl of his own.

The difference was that Barry no longer had delusions of life being anything other than it was.

He handed the driver back the tablet and let out a breath as the car pulled away from the curb.

Barry dreaded where they were headed next, but knew to keep swimming along if he didn't want to find himself yanked out again, flopping for breath.

 

The next morning, Barry slipped out of the hub and back into the bustling corridors of Oversight as he leafed through his crisp, new case file.

It was an updated file of the one he'd already looked over before he went to Belgium.

This one was much thicker; made to accommodate information for his new partner.

Though sturdy in his grasp, the file did nothing to steady the nerves Barry's hands.

He re-read the cover story for what felt like the hundredth time, almost as if the words could all rearrange and give him an out.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, he thought.

Not at all.

And he didn't know how to slow everything down enough to catch a break.

He'd spent the last two days saying his piece, defending the original plan for his high level mafia bust to be a solo mission, but the higher ups would hear nothing of it.

They all said his cover would work better with a partner.

And if it wasn't for _who_ the partner was that they'd picked for him, Barry would've been inclined to agree. 

But, as it was now, Barry felt more like he was holding instructions for his own demise than anything else.

And in the ironically fitting role as the Reaper, Barry noticed he was heading straight towards Francine West at the end of the hall.

"Director West," Barry gave his usual stifled, polite greeting when he reached her.

Not that Francine would ever want anything more familiar.

"Agent Allen," Francine said after a nod of hello. "I heard you retrieved the final black box ahead of schedule. Well done."

"Yeah, well I got tired of the noise of the city. Thought I'd come back here where it's quiet," Barry joked.

Francine didn't laugh. Just peered up at him through her eyelashes.

Barry coughed and shuffled his feet.

When Francine probably decided the awkward tension was thick enough, she broke the silence. "There are a few close-range ops I think you'll be best for, but the durations are much long than your current mission cap allows. Maybe I'll speak to Amanda about the terms of your probation," she pondered out loud.

Barry's eyes snapped back to hers in surprise.

Before he looked around for sign anyone else was listening.

Director West was never one to broach touchy subjects like this outside of her office.

But, Francine was no fool. She nodded towards the folder in Barry's hands, already easing into another topic.

"I trust you'll find the changes suitable. It may not be what you initially had in mind, but this works much better, believe me. Less questions asked by the targets and as a bonus you get a skilled partner to rely on if things go sideways," she said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

Not that Barry had any desire. 

"Any news on Agent 618?" He asked, resigned.

"No. But, her itinerary hasn't changed so she should be landing within the hour," Francine relayed.

Barry nodded. He glanced longingly towards the exit, willing it to reach out for him, before returning to Director West's hawk-like gaze.

"If you cannot perform, Agent Allen, now is the time to speak up," she reminded as she studied him intensely.

Barry opened his mouth to try, one more time, before he thought better off it.

"No, Director," he smiled reassuringly. "Everything will be just fine."

 

As soon as Iris stepped through the company doors, she felt the same restrictive energy she'd felt every time she was in Oversight.

She'd almost forgotten how stifling the tall glass ceilings and spacious concrete halls could feel.

Almost.

Eight months away may have given her space to clear her head, but it did nothing to erase this place.

Or the people inside it.

It was unnerving being back after all this time.

Iris felt like a fish out of water.

Or maybe one under a microscope if the intense stares and hushed whispers were anything to go by.

Though, she reminded herself, those were nothing new.

Her entire tenure here had been littered with whispers and stares.

Perhaps she should be grateful that, at least now, there was an actual reason _why_ her colleagues were treating her like she was the center of a sideshow.

A few of the friendlier agents did wave at her as she passed or flashed a smile of comfort.

But, Iris never really put weight behind people's pleasantries in this place.

Most people were fake-nice to her for the very same reason the rest treated her like a leper: because of who her mother was.

Of course, Iris had learned to grow thicker skin since her days as a recruit. 

So, though strolling into Oversight after almost a year made her feel her most vulnerable in ages, she hurried along to Mason Bridge's office with her head high and her expression unbothered.

When she arrived he wasn't there, but a young recruit was stationed at his front desk twiddling with her mass of curls.

It took her a concerning amount of time to realize someone else had entered the room and when she finally noticed Iris, she flushed and almost fell out her seat.

"Oh Jeez," she fumbled, righting her balance before flashing a smile. "Hi! Hi, hello! I'm Elliot can I help you?"

"Hi, Elliot, just checking in for assignment," Iris told her, covering her tiny smile of amusement.

"Oh right. Sure, I'll grab the case files," Elliot typed in a code which opened a cabinet across the room.

She walked over and pulled out some papers before she turned slightly and saw Iris was somehow standing right beside her.

"Shit," Elliot squeaked before clasping a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean- you just move around like a cat."

Iris shrugged and gave a slight smile of apology.

There was something refreshing about jittery cheerfulness after spending eight months with stuffy suits who seemed allergic to laughter of any kind.

Elliot's awkwardness was even more amusing when Iris caught sight of her level 3 badge with a blue decal.

Mid-ranking recruit with special training in combat.

Elliot could crack more than a few skulls if she had to.

"Part of the job I guess," Iris said by way of apology. "I'm Iris, by the way."

"Oh I know who you are!” Elliot grinned. “Everyone does you're like a living legend." 

She shuffled through the cabinet some more before she pulled out a thick folder and a smaller package and handed them to Iris.

"These are yours. You'll just need to check the package."

"Sure," Iris knew the process well.

They walked back to Elliot's desk and Iris peeked inside the package briefly as she handed Elliot her ID badge to scan.

"Okay just sign here," the recruit pointed to the small section of her desk that lit up.

Iris signed and Elliot handed back her badge with a thoughtful expression.

"You know...I could help you if you want," Elliot said hesitantly.

Iris quirked an eyebrow.

"With that," she gestured to Iris's badge.

Elliot quickly typed something on her computer and turned the screen to Iris. "I can issue you a new card with your updated personal information."

Iris felt a cold splash douse whatever good vibe she'd had a minute ago.

She quickly slid her case file and package off the desk. "The old one works just fine," Iris said shortly. “Thanks.”

Elliot blinked and started to stutter an apology, but Iris gave a curt goodbye and was out the door.

 

Barry saw her before she saw him.

Iris.

He'd sent her a meet up location after Mason's recruit had let him know she'd landed.

He'd made sure to arrive before her and had been watching her from afar since she arrived.

She looked good. 

Amazing, actually.

Her hair was shorter, falling right above her shoulders now.

The forest green dress she wore hugged every curve she had and it illuminated her flawless brown skin.

She was beautiful.

Anyone could see she was stunning.

In the 14 minutes he'd been watching her, she'd already sent back three drinks from three different hopefuls.

Though she didn't seem bothered about it.

She was used to the lustful gazes. The gifts, small or excessive, meant to sway her. The promises men and women boasted to try and win her favor.

That's what Iris's mere presence brought out.

She could fill up an entire room if you let your guard down.

She could saturate every crevice, every inch with her presence until she was the only thing you saw.

She could consume you without ever meaning to.

Barry finally felt himself blink as he remembered that.

He couldn't let her consume him.

He slid away from his little hiding spot and walked towards her.

"Iris," Barry said when he reached the bar, immediately grabbing her attention.

Iris whipped around and put down her wine glass a little clumsily.

"Barry," Iris smiled at him. She stood from her chair and Barry stepped back.

He pointed to the behind him.

"I got us a table," he told her. "Less wandering eyes.”

"So what have you got?" Iris asked when they were seated in the somewhat isolated booth.

"A family of mobster brothers that have gotten on Oversight's radar in a bad way. Last month the youngest brother killed one of Mason's own informants," Barry said. "The family pretty much has its hands in every honey jar: arms deals, drug trafficking, murders for hire. But, their illegal art trading’s their money maker."

He slid pictures of the Morottas' impressive collection across the table.

"And to top it off, Agent Bridge just got word that they've started using their art trades to smuggle nuclear materials in and out of the country to the highest bidders," Barry recounted.

"Ambitious," Iris drawled.

Barry nodded. _That's_ where we focus. We dismantle their art ring, expose their empire and let the FBI handle the rest."

"And Mason doesn't want a hit on any of them?" Iris asked. She'd read the file earlier and had been a little surprised he didn't want retaliation of the permanent kind.

Barry shook his head and leaned back. "No, he needs Jimmy Morotta, the one who killed Mason’s informant, in federal prison. He has... plans for him there."

Iris knew better than to ask what Mason meant by that. "What's our cover?" she asked instead. "It wasn't in the folder."

"Well this wasn't originally a two-person op," Barry reminded her, but pressed on when she looked ready to interject.

"A tech contractor for the government looking to use his millions to take a swipe at some high-value art pieces with his wife," Barry revealed. "And maybe buy a little uranium on the side.” 

He slid a folder to her which revealed both of their backstories.

"Michael and Nicole Mears. Twenty-six years old. Both graduates of Stanford University. ‘Michael’ went on to MIT post-grad. ‘Nicole’ became the perfect Stepford wife. They just celebrated their seven year anniversary," Iris read out loud.

"Really?" she asked, with an obvious exasperation. "They're going with this cover?"

"I guess some couples scratch the seven-year itch by funding illegal crime rings," Barry said with the hint of a smirk.

But, Iris slid the folder back to him. "No one is going to take it seriously."

At that Barry straightened up and frowned. "Thought it was clever to use. Getting married that young gives us an air of naivety which makes us less threatening. _Staying_ married for that long, especially in such a demanding line of work shows maturity and loyalty. Give them something innately trustworthy and wholesome about us. Even if it's a tiny bit. It's a win-win," he shrugged, not really looking at her.

Iris sighed.

She could already tell this was going to be a long night of her putting her foot in her mouth.

"You're right," she amended quickly. "It's a good idea."

Barry sighed himself and started packing up.

“The car is outside whenever you’re ready to go. We should go to the safe house to finish all this anyway."

Iris watched him gather up the pages abruptly and felt her heart sink down to her stomach and her breath catch.

She looked away from him and tried to focus on the calming music playing over the speakers.

"Ready?" Barry asked once.

Iris quickly schooled her face and stood up. "Sure. Let’s go."

The drive to the safe house was drenched in thick silence.

Iris ran through maybe a dozen ways to end the quiet, but she couldn't think of a place to start a conversation for the life of her.

Not that Barry looked like he'd be open to talking to anyone.

He stared out the window and even with his back slightly to her, Iris could tell he'd rather be anywhere than there with her.

For all her charisma, Iris wasn't used to awkward stretches like that so she was internally grateful when their car finally stopped and they walked into a luxury apartment building.

Barry held the door open for Iris before entering the apartment himself and looking around.

The safe house Mason secured was actually a sprawling penthouse with a skyline view of the city.

The place was definitely on the nicer side of bases of operations agents have had to make do with.

They dumped their things in the living room and immediately went about setting up their comms and their laptops.

"I saw that there's a gallery mixer tonight downtown," Iris said as she raised a router antennae. "We should go."

The Morottas did sell and trade illegal art work, but they were at least smart enough to have an actual, legitimate art gallery as a front.

It was one of the hottest places in the city known for its frequent parties and galas. 

The festivities looked like typical business attempts for public interest, but they doubled as private bids to join illegal buying circles for those interested.

"I was going to skip it," Barry said. "It's one of the lesser parties. None of the brothers are even going to be there. They're still in Japan for the next twelve hours. I thought we could go over logistics tonight and make our entrance in three days at their fundraiser."

"If it's any sort of uppity social, the wives will be there with or without their husbands. Which will be the perfect opportunity to get dinner invitations, lunch dates-fastest way to do some interior recon," Iris said.

"It's also great if bored, rich gossips do the heavy-lifting and get our names out there for us," she reminded.

Barry seemed to weigh her advice before he shook his head. "No, I think my strategy is better. I already mapped out our first three days. If we deviate now, logistics can't be done again until tomorrow afternoon which puts our whole schedule off by at least 12 hours."

Iris frowned, "Why would you make an entire three day outline of the mission without consulting with me? I'm your partner on this."

Barry rolled his eyes. "You may be my partner, but I'm still the point person for this op. It's my call."

"So, what? I'm literally just here to be your beard? You don't care to even hear my input?" Iris said, irritation finally seeping through.

Barry shrugged, not bothering to respond.

Iris scoffed and slammed her laptop shut. "Wonderful. You know, if that's all you needed you could've just grabbed any wandering recruit from the training center. I don't know why you went out of your way to request me if you don't want me here."

Barry's lips turned up sardonically. "Is that what Mason and your mom told you? Up until two days ago this was my solo mission until they high jacked the whole thing and brought you on. Believe me, I wouldn't dream of disturbing the great European Escape," he muttered bitterly. "This wasn't me."

Iris sighed, already weary now with a face burning with anger and embarrassment.

It was at least good to know her mother's constant gaslighting and deception hadn't changed in her absence. "I didn't come all this way to spend the next few weeks fighting with you, okay?"

"I know you don't want to be here, but this will all go a lot smoother if you could at least pretend," Iris told him.

Barry huffed, but he hadn't missed the hurt that had flashed across Iris's eyes when he told her the truth.

He supposed budging just a little could help the process.

Or at the very least soothe her resistance to his ideas.

"Alright, fine," he said a few minutes later. "What did you have in mind?"

 

A few hours later Barry and Iris found themselves breezing through patrons at the mixer.

They'd easily made their way across the displays, chatting and charming most of the guests and had managed to secure two standing lunches at the country club most of the guests seemed to be a part of.

One of which was from the cousin of a major player in the Morottas' drug ring.

Barry and Iris figured that the country club could be a meeting place of some kind where a lot of business transactions were discussed. So they turned their sights on the biggest fish in the room that could get them access.

"You're both pretty young to be married for so long," one of the mob wives, Lisa, said after their laughter died down from one of Barry's jokes. "Seven years did you say?"

Barry nodded. "Tied the knot at nineteen."

"What a drunken Vegas proposal?" Shelby, her sister-in-law laughed.

"No, actually. Michael planned a beautiful proposal at a lake," Iris said smoothly. "Right, honey?"

Barry blinked in surprise before he gave the acceptable amount of bashfulness and smile for the ladies to swoon a little.

"There were beautiful lanterns and candles and flowers everywhere," Iris said wistfully. "He even managed to do it near a lake full of swans."

Some of the women cooed so Iris continued. "It was actually freezing that night, but I don't think either of us noticed until we were back inside.”

She continued on a little, describing the night in detail and Barry felt almost enraptured himself as Iris painted a lively picture.

He could tell it was working on their audience as well.

Shelby put a hand over her heart and tilted her head towards the couple. "Now, that's just the sweetest thing I've heard in ages."

Iris smiled and slid her hand through Barry's arm. "Michael's just always been a romantic."

"She makes it so easy," Barry smiled down at Iris and Iris has to stifle an eye roll from how dramatically the women react.

"So what do you do?" Lisa asked them when the chatter died down again.

"I'm a private contractor for the government," Barry told her.

He didn't miss the millisecond of a look Lisa and Shelby shared.

"Oh wow. That's real interesting," Lisa said. "And what about you, Nicole?"

"Oh I have an engineering degree from Stanford, but the last two years I've been taking time off to be there for Michael for some of his bigger projects," Iris recited.

"Oh," Shelby giggled. "You're just like our sister Laurel. She's the brainiac in the family. You two would get along great, talking about fancy things no one else understands."

Laurel Morotta.

The third sister-in-law.

And _exactly_ the name Iris had been hoping to hear all night.

When attacking enemy walls, you always look for the weakest spot. The chink in the armor.

According to Iris's quick research, the beautiful and intelligent Dr. Laurel Morotta could be precisely that weak brick Iris needed.

She smiled at Shelby and Lisa and put on a look of pleasant surprise before squeezing Barry's arm imperceptibly. "Then you two will have to introduce us sometime."

Not long after that, Barry and Iris both stepped back into the elevator leading to the penthouse. Back at the gallery they'd claimed early mornings and excused themselves after Shelby finally invited them to a dinner party she was hosting on Saturday.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Iris stepped out of her high heels.

Barry removed his ear comm and let out a long, tired breath.

It'd been a long, long day. For the both of them. But, at least they'd been successful at the mixer.

They didn't talk, but Iris noticed Barry's hands were moving a mile a minute at his side.

They were almost to the top floor when he spoke.

"I don't remember any swans on the waterfront that night," Barry finally revealed quietly. "That part was fake?"

He didn't turn to her.

Iris didn't speak for a long while before responding in a low voice. "There were. They were by the Cherry Blossoms. All the way to the left where you'd laid out that picnic blanket."

Barry tilted his head and closed his eyes just a tiny bit, trying to remember that night.

He mostly just remembered the twinge of betrayal when the night had turned out colder than all the weather apps had predicted.

He remembered feeling like the velvet box was burning a hole in his pocket all night long.

He remembered the nausea and the nerves as he and Iris held hands along the waterfront.

He remembered Iris's bright smile rivaling the lanterns and twinkling lights he'd hung on all the trees when they came upon the south side of the lake.

He remembered getting down on one knee and he remembered her stealing his breath when she said yes, dropping to her knees herself and kissing him with so much passion, he could still feel it perfectly all these years later.

"Of course," he said, catching a fleeting glimpse of milky feathers rustling in his mind's eye just as the picture faded away. "I remember."

When he opened his eyes again, Iris was staring at him. Her right hand was nervously twisting her wedding ring, a habit she'd developed over the seven years it'd been on her hand.

Her eyes were unabashed and open and they held question and longing for the first time since he'd seen her again.

And Barry couldn't control his feet from taking a small step towards her.

His eyes dipped from her eyes back to her ring.

Iris sucked in a breath and her eyes fluttered when Barry's fingers barely brushed against hers.

And Barry allowed himself the indulgence of touching his wife for the first time in almost a year.

Her skin was so soft. It always was.

And familiar. It could never be anything else to him.

And the slight tremble of her fingers sent his heart racing.

But, when she whispered his name, nervous and questioning, it felt like a splash of cold water.

He immediately stepped back and fixed his watch, pretending to read the time before looking up to see how much further they had to ride; anything to avoid the brown eyes he could feel locked on him.

"Yeah...well. Fake or real, I guess it does seem too good to be true," he said shortly. "Hard to keep track."

"Barry," Iris tried again. "Can we just-" but Barry cut her off.

"Iris, it's late and we have a long day tomorrow," he said, suddenly exhausted. "Can we just get some sleep instead of dragging a mountain of baggage out a closet?"

Iris visibly flinched at him referring to their marriage as baggage.

"I just think we need to get some rest. Focus on tomorrow," he said in the tone he'd been using with her all day.

One she wasn't used to from him.

It was curt and irritable and left no room for her to clear her head enough to try and put her thousands of rushing feelings into the most basic words.

When the elevator finally released them into the safe house, Barry was off before Iris could blink.

"I'll take the guest bed," he called behind him, not bothering to slow down.

He entered the room and locked the door before Iris could get another word in.

Iris sighed and slowly walked to the master.

She knew her husband better than anyone.

She knew as soon as he said her name at the bar all strangled and guarded with eyes looking anywhere but at her, that trying to talk to Barry about anything other than the mission right now would do her no favors.

In the eight months since she last saw him, he'd built walls around himself.

Sky-high from what she could tell.

With perches comfortable enough for him to sit on and take shots at her outside the gates below.

But, she knew why.

She'd broken his heart, his pride, his sense of security.

There was _so_ much she'd wanted to say when she'd finally saw him again. So much she wanted to explain.

But, he was completely closed off.

He was hurt and he was angry.

Iris understood that more than anyone could know.

And the only explanation she had for leaving was the need to save her own life.

And as tragic as it was, she didn't think that'd be enough for them now.


	2. But I Can't Move Mountains for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days late, but here it is.
> 
> Sorry for the tedious, but v. necessary expositions.

The next morning Iris was up with the sun.

She made quick work of her intense exercise routine in the building's surprisingly well stocked gym and made sure she was done with her shower before Barry woke up.

When she padded out of her bedroom, she caught sight of an envelope that wasn't on the counter an hour before.

Iris picked it up and recognized her mother's handwriting on the envelope addressed to _Agent West-Allen._

Her mom was ever one for formalities.

_Iris,_

_Please, report to my office first thing this morning. The new access code will be waiting in your mailbox at 8:30 a.m._

_~D.F.W_

Iris bit her lip.

She knew she should go see her mom; it had been eight months.

She actually should've gone to see her yesterday. But, Iris also knew that any time she was summoned by her mother, her day usually went downhill from there.

And Iris had been hoping Barry wouldn't mind having breakfast with her this morning.

On cue, the bedroom door down the hall opened and Barry stepped out, adjusting the collar of his sweater.

Iris crumbled up her mother's note.

She'd see her another day.

"Hey," Iris said, somewhat cautiously.

"Morning," Barry greeted. His hair was still glistening from his shower.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked.

"Fine," Barry said as he walked past her to the kitchen. Iris followed. "The bed was pretty comfortable."

Iris nodded.

Barry had talked to her dozens of times over the years about how he could never sleep well when he was working on an active mission.

His mind was always running over all types of probabilities and outcomes.

Iris herself had had to wake him up and drag him home after late nights in his lab more times than she could count.

She could imagine how poorly he was sleeping out here in the field.

But, she didn't pry further.

"Up for some breakfast?" She asked instead.

Barry faltered before grabbing an apple from the fridge and holding it up.

"Actually I wanted to look at setting up some surveillance at the gallery," he said.

Iris hid her disappointment.

"Sure. I'll just grab some food and then I'll help you," she said.

"We should be able to draw up a map of possible smuggling tunnels from last night," Barry said while Iris rummaged around for smoothie ingredients. "I counted two fake display cases and a fake wall by one of the utility closets. How about you?"

"There was a two-way mirror behind the east Asian exhibit and a hatch along the bar,” Iris recalled as she cut up some fruit. “The hatch had a hollow sounding echo when I knocked on it. My guess is that whole bar area opens up to some tunnels that lead to the alleyway out back, maybe even somewhere else."

Barry nodded. "Well, we can definitely add that to the list of locations to watch. That and the country club."

" _Definitely_ the country club," Iris agreed. "Did you see how everyone talked about it? You'd think it was like a religious temple."

She reached over to the cupboards in search of honey. "Did that seem weird to you, too?"

"I um...I think that's just how rich people talk about country clubs," Barry said.

Iris made a non-committal noise.

He took pity on her plight and walked up beside her to grab the jar off the top shelf for her.

"Thanks," Iris smiled.

Barry stared at her for a moment and Iris thought he might reconsider breakfast, but he just took a giant step back.

"I'll be outside," he said tersely. He grabbed the duffel bag on the kitchen island. "Meet me when you're done."

He walked away without another word.

Iris closed her eyes in frustration.

She gave herself a minute before she turned on the blender and thought about their situation.

The anger was new.

Granted, they’d had a few spats after seven years together, of course, but Barry’s anger was never anything like this.

He’d never worn it like a shield, blocking every and all attempts from her as if he didn’t really see her there at all.

But, Iris knew that he did.

The underlying hurt she saw in his eyes every time they locked with hers was enough to tell her that he saw her and he saw every ounce of pain she’d caused him.

And that he was going to do everything in his power to not let her do it again.

Iris didn’t want to hurt him. She’d never wanted to hurt him.

She just needed him to hear her, even for a minute.

But, it felt like the two of them were a million miles apart and she had no idea how to even start to talk to him.

 

By the time she drank her smoothie and met Barry on the roof, she’d tucked away her yearning enough to focus on what needed to be done that day.

“I made a list of guests from last night who I think could be potential buyers of some of the heavier stuff the Morottas sell,” Barry started when she joined him on the bench. “There were two women who said they worked sales for an upscale boutique called Emil Voss.”

Iris chuckled appreciatively.

Emil Voss was a known alias of German-Canadian organization called Jürgen that specialized in selling illegal weapons.

The women were arms dealers.

“Another said she works security for a foreign diplomat and one guy just changed the subject completely when I asked him what he did for a living so we can guess what the hell that is,” Barry said.

“Not to mention the dozens of people who would want to buy a bunch of material just to turn around and resell it on the black market for a bigger profit," Iris said.

"Exactly. So, I think we should set up surveillance in and around the gallery as soon as possible. Those tunnels are definitely being used to transport things they don't want being seen," Barry said as he pulled out the building's blueprints. "We don't want to miss whatever that is."

"I can get that done tonight," Iris volunteered.

"Not without any recon," Barry said. "We don't know security schedule or what surveillance they have of their own."

"This isn't like the time we hacked into the Pentagon, Barry. These are mobsters. I'm sure cracking their firewall won't be too difficult," Iris assured. "The gallery's on a busy street; I can hack into security cameras across the street and next door to get footage of the outside and I can highjack their own security cameras so we have a view of the inside. The only thing I'd need to do in person is put down some audio bugs. Piece of cake."

Barry weighed what she said.

"I've done it a million times," she reminded to nudge him along.

"You've done it with proper recon beforehand," Barry told her. 

“Barry, I can do it,” Iris insisted. “It’s simple.”

But, Barry wouldn’t hear anymore.

He changed the subject to audio surveillance and their plan for the dinner party, but after a few minutes Iris didn’t know why he called it “their” anything.

It was all him. His ideas, his tactical plans. Any input Iris was allowed was either dismissed as too rash or inoperable.

Iris held her tongue for the sake of peace, but she grew angrier by the hour.

This wasn't her first time.

Iris had been doing this since she was 18 years old.

She was the one of the deadliest assassins in the world.

That wasn't an exaggeration.

She was ranked; marked based on kills, precision, speed, and operation difficulty.

Iris had earned her ranking less than a year of being out as a field agent.

She was technically classified as a lethal weapon, both armed and unarmed.

Though, she found that title to be embarrassing and a little tedious herself there was no denying that she was extraordinary.

Barry knew that. He was her partner.

The two of them had completed hundreds of missions together.

Where Iris excelled in physique and weaponry finesse, Barry was another type of agent Oversight had never seen before.

He was unparalleled in biotechnology and chemistry.

Duplicating fingerprints, 3-D printing retinas to bypass eye-scans in restricted areas, removing the most microscopic amount of DNA evidence from a scene, _planting_ evidence from a target for police to find when necessary; Barry did it all. 

He was like a master chef in the company labs. He could whip up undetectable sedatives and poisons, life-saving antidotes and salves and he could put together some of the most-advanced biotechnology on the planet.

Where most agents' succeeded in one specialty, Barry was the rarest commodity the company had. He could hold his own in combat and he could decimate people without ever stepping foot out of his lab.

Because of his skill sets, he was the only agent that could theoretically work both in the basements at Oversight and out in the field.

When they worked together, Barry and Iris were the best Oversight could ever want.

They were partners. A package deal.

They had been since the day they met.

So Iris couldn't swallow Barry flipping their script like this.

The following three days were much of the same.

Iris would wake up, work out, attempt to invite Barry for breakfast or lunch or dinner in between tactical meetings that were heavily one-sided before falling into her separate bed for a night of restless sleep.

They did wind up casing the gallery downtown (using Iris’s original suggestion) and had eyes on the mysterious trap door.

By the time the weekend and the dinner party rolled around Iris was stressed and filled with boiling frustrations.

They pulled into Shelby and Angelo Morotta's gated home at eight on the dot carrying expensive wine, a fleet of miniature surveillance tech in their pockets and hidden comms in their ears.

Shelby greeted them at the door excitedly and led them through the giant foyer into a well-furnished sitting room where a few other guests were waiting.

Iris recognized some of them from the mixer and a few others from the files Barry and Iris had of known associates.

The rest were unfamiliar, but every single one of them reeked of money and inflated sense of self.

"Two more," Shelby sang, ushering Barry and Iris to the center of the room. "This is Michael and Nicole Mears. They're a little new to the area, super hilarious and incredibly well-dressed."

"Michael, Nicole these are our friends." Shelby introduced all the guests by name and Barry and Iris flashed amicable smiles and friendly how-do-you-dos.

"Oh! Nicole, my sister-in-law is here," Shelby grinned, nearly bursting as she pulled Iris aside. "You didn't get to meet her last week, but I told her all about you. She's cooking in the kitchen with Lisa, why don't you join us."

Iris met Barry's eyes pointing in the direction of the kitchens and he nodded.

Laurel and Lisa were indeed in there, but Iris wondered if the wealthy version of cooking was standing around drinking wine while caterers bustled around assembling dishes. 

"Look who's here," Shelby sang loudly.

Iris was already annoyed with her dramatic entrances.

"Nicole, hi!" Lisa greeted. "Damn girl, you look incredible."

"Thanks," Iris responded. "I actually went to that boutique you mentioned really quickly last week. I thought I'd check it out since your dress was so amazing."

Lisa looked as if Iris just gave her the highest compliment. "See, I knew you'd like it there. I could tell you have nice taste." She turned to Shelby. "Didn't I say she looks like she'd have good taste?"

"You did say," Shelby responded.

Iris grinned. Lisa and Shelby were as easy as they came.

She already knew which other dozen adulations she was going subtlety to throw their way to butter them all the way up.

"Hi, I'm Laurel," Laurel finally took it upon herself to make the introduction it looked like no one else was going to make.

Shelby clonked her forehead. "I'm such a dunce. Nicole this is our sister Laurel, Laurel this is Nicole. Nicole's an engineer," Shelby whispered as if Laurel would be wooed.

But, Laurel gave a stiff smile at Shelby's antics.

"Nice to meet you," Iris shook her hand.

"Likewise," Laurel said.

Lisa and Shelby squealed as is they'd just made a match in heaven. 

"You two talk about science or whatever and we'll go see about dinner," Shelby instructed and she and Lisa scurried off.

"Shelby seems to think every person in the S.T.E.M fields does the same thing," Laurel said apologetically. "She got over excited and wouldn't listen when I told her an obstetrician and an engineer would have nothing in common about their work."

"If they did, they'd have a lot of explaining to do," Iris joked.

Laurel giggled almost hesitantly.

"So you're a doctor?" Iris asked.

"Yes, well... not right now. I mean I took a break from practicing after I got married," Laurel explained. "Jimmy's business keeps him traveling a lot so I didn't want to spend what little time he's around stuck doing 36 hour shifts at the hospital."

Iris nodded. She could tell Laurel felt insecure about the topic. She detected the tiniest bit of defensiveness in her explanation.

"How long have you guys been married?"

"Five years."

"Wow, long time. Good for you for doing what makes you happy," Iris congratulated.

Laurel smiled appreciatively, "Thanks."

"So are you married?"

Iris held up her right hand. "Almost eight years."

Laurel's eyes bulged a little. "Holy hell that ring is huge!"

Iris felt her face get a little hot as she grinned. "Yeah... my husband is very proud of it," she said truthfully. "He's around here somewhere."

"So is mine," Laurel said. "Managed to drag him away from business long enough do eat an actual meal with family."

"What does he do?" Iris asked.

"He's an architect," Laurel said her. She immediately looked down.

Laurel didn't have much of a poker face.

"Maybe we should go find our seats," she then suggested, grabbing her wine glass. "I think the caterers are ready."

Iris watched Laurel at dinner where the family dynamics were made clear.

The three brothers dominated conversation and all wore an air of authority that Iris could see being tantalizing to some. Though, it was obvious they thought a great deal of their wives and deferred to them in most things.

Lisa and Shelby held their own steering conversation away from "boring crap" when they wanted, talking a mile a minute, cracking jokes and expensive wine bottles that filled everyone with levity.

They were the clear backbones.

Laurel, on the other hand, barely got ten words in and seemed comfortable sitting silently at her husband's side.

She blushed profusely when her husband's jokes veered towards vulgar and looked bored when he got into heated debate over tax reform with Barry and some other guests. She kept losing interest in the side conversations about the best time to vacation in the Alps and whether or not Céline bags were still in.

In fact the only time she looked remotely at ease was when Jimmy distractedly kissed her hand and she practically melted into the floor.

Shelby's matchmaking antics suddenly made a lot more sense.

Anyone could see Laurel Morotta needed a friend.

After the main courses, Iris volunteered to help when Laurel went to see about dessert.

Barry pulled her aside on her way to the kitchen while everyone was clearing away their plates.

"I'm gonna start putting up some of the mics around the house while everyone's a little distracted," Barry told her. "How did Laurel seem earlier? Viable?"

Iris nodded. "She's definitely the odd one out, not just on paper. I can do it."

"Okay," Barry said. "I'll get started."

"Wait, listen there was a lot more wine being poured at dinner than I expected. I think everyone has a nice buzz going at the very least. We can try to make it further into the house," Iris speculated. "Maybe sneak away for a little tour and see if we can't take a peek in their study. Or better yet Angelo's office."

Barry shook his head. "Too many people around. There's no way we could make a clean escape without someone seeing us or missing us."

"I think I cou-" Iris tried, but Barry was already turning back to the dining room.

"Not tonight," he said. "Stay on the comm in case I need you."

Iris sighed, feeling dismissed, and went to meet Laurel in the kitchen.

"Your family's a lot of fun," Iris complimented as she helped plate the slices of cake the caterers laid out.

"Oh. Thanks, yeah they're great," Laurel agreed.

"It makes me miss my own," Iris bemoaned softly. "My sister especially."

Laurel perked up a tiny bit. "You have a sister?"

Iris nodded. "She's younger. We've always been pretty close, but with the move for Michael's job, this is most we've been apart. Ever."

Laurel's eyes flooded with sympathy.

"I have a little sister, too," Laurel revealed quietly.

Iris already knew that. 

"I miss her every day," Laurel continued. "I... don't really get to see her. Distance, you know?"

"I know," Iris nodded. "It sucks."

"Work used to distract me, but ever since I took off to help Michael with his contracts, I found I have all this free-time to miss her even more," Iris sighed. She picked at the cake. "But, seeing all you together out there was nice."

For the first time Laurel looked put at ease. "You're a housewife, too? You know I have to admit that's a bit of a relief. I feel like a lot of my old work friends judge me for quitting to be at home with Jimmy, even Shelby and Lisa tease about it, but you must know what it's like," she said, almost imploringly.

"Of course," Iris promised. She put a comforting hand on Laurel's. "I know what it's like."

Laurel beamed.

"Why don't we get all this dessert out before people start a drunken riot," Laurel joked, her elevation in mood totally obvious.

"Sure," Iris grinned. She grabbed her tray and led Laurel back outside.

Barry was able to finish discreetly tagging every one of his microphones by the time dessert was eaten and cleared away and everyone found their way into the living room for a nightcap.

He was admiring his handiwork when he caught Shelby's voice across the room.

"Hey where's Nicole? I want to show her where I ordered my centerpieces."

Laurel shrugged. "Haven't seen her in a while actually."

Barry was already making his way towards them when Shelby waved him over.

"Where's Nicole?" Shelby wondered. "I've been looking everywhere for her."

"Really? I think I just saw her slip into the kitchen," Barry lied. "Didn't she?"

"I haven't seen her either."

They turned and saw Angelo, a hard frown on his face.

Barry's heart sank. He hadn't noticed when Iris slipped away.

He'd been busy keeping conversation and feigning interest in the knickknacks he stuck his gadgets to.

"Really?" Barry asked.

"In fact, she slipped out right after dessert and hasn't been back since," he recalled.

That was at least a half hour unaccounted for.

Angelo and Shelby shared a quick look.

Shelby's was one of calming, but Angelo's was quick-growing, angry suspicion.

"She probably went to the bathroom and got lost or something," Laurel said simply, not getting the big deal. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Maybe I'll go see if I can help her find her way back," Angelo muttered. He gestured to his older brother by the door and was gone before Barry could respond.

Barry knew right away Iris had ignored his warning and had gone snooping around Angelo's private office.

He raced through how he could call Angelo back without looking suspicious as hell.

But, Shelby was looking at him curiously and Barry remembered to school his features before slipping on an easy going smile.

"The bathrooms are in the east wing, right?" He asked, remembering Shelby's rapid listing of where things were located if needed. "Isn't that where your art collection is?"

Shelby nodded a bit too slowly for Barry's comfort.

"Well, that's definitely where Nicole is. Unfortunately if my wife comes across anything Monet, you will need a force of God to pull her away," Barry joked. Fortunately the two women smiled in understanding. "I'll go see if I can try."

Barry pressed his comm as soon as he was out of sight. "Iris."

He tried again. "Iris, are you there? You've got company."

There was no reply.

Barry cursed and raced towards Angelo's office.

He skated to a stop and peered around the corner when he heard Angelo and Vincent.

"Look it's still right there. You gotta stop being so fucking jumpy, Angelo. You scared that girl half to death. One day you're gonna shoot one of us by accident cause you're so fucking fidgety," Vincent said. "Just take it easy."

"You should be over cautious," Angelo warned begrudgingly. The two of them stepped back into the hall and Angelo locked his office door. "Jimmy's reckless shit's been taking a toll on the business. Can't risk anything else going sideways before auction."

Barry didn't hear Vincent's response since they walked out of earshot, no doubt back to the party.

Barry stepped out of the shadows.

He had no idea where Iris was, but if the brothers were that calm, they obviously didn't see her doing anything suspicious.

He just needed to find her.

"Hey," Iris greeted casually behind him.

Barry nearly jumped out of his skin. "Iris, what the hell?" He hadn't heard her approach.

"I got what I was looking for," she grinned, holding up her cell.

"Yeah and you almost blew your cover," Barry reprimanded, worry giving way to anger now that he saw she was alright.

Iris gave a tiny scoff. "I was already out the office and in front of their art work by the time Angelo came barreling down the hall. I told him I was admiring his Monet and he moved right along."

"So you actually went searching after I told you it wasn't clear?" Barry demanded.

"I found a pocket and I took it," Iris said.

Barry scoffed at the annoyance he heard in her voice. As if _he_ was the one who refused to listen.

But, in Iris's opinion he was.

She couldn't understand why Barry kept berating her for things she'd done literally hundreds of times before on previous missions.

She was good at thinking on her feet and making moves as she went along.

Everyone knew that, Barry especially.

But, you'd think Iris was a novice from how frequently Barry shut her down and criticized her process the past week.

He was being petty.

"Just let me do my job, Barry. I'm not an idiot," Iris muttered angrily, pushing past him.

"No, you're not an idiot. So I don't know what you thought you could've even found that would've been worth blowing our entire cover on the first night," Barry growled. "You've been being reckless to try to prove a point!"

"Prove a- what the hell are you even talking about?" Iris asked incredulously. "I'm the one who's been trying to make sure this op goes smoothly and that we can have some sort of dialogue! You're the one trying to constantly shut me down, standing in the middle of a hall yelling at me as if I'm a child."

Barry immediately snapped his mouth shut.

He lowered his voice. "I'm not yelling."

"Yes, you are," Iris snapped. "Though I suppose that's a step up from you acting like I'm not even here."

Barry sighed. "Listen,"

"No, you listen," Iris interrupted, fed up with his attitude. "I saw an opening and I took it. It worked like I knew it would. If you still want to have hurt feelings about it, that's not my problem."

"I'm going back to the party."

She stormed off and Barry had no choice but to follow, his long legs having to work to keep up with her.

Right before they walked back into the living room, he overtook her a little to grab her hand.

He looked at her make sure that no anger lingered on her face before they entered. Iris refused to look at him, but they both plastered smiles on their faces as they walked through the door.

"I found her," Barry announced to Shelby and Lisa who cheered a little.

"We thought we'd have to send a search party."

"Sorry," Iris smiled sheepishly, rubbing Barry's arm affectionately. "I got completely drawn in by your Monet piece!"

 

A few hours later Barry and Iris announced their departure, saying their goodbyes to their newfound dinner friends.

Laurel pulled Iris aside after Barry helped her into her coat and shyly asked if they could exchange numbers for a lunch date.

When they walked back into the safe house and chucked off their shoes and ear comms, the tension from their fight lessened just a little by their satisfaction of another successful night.

Barry went on his computer to turn on the mics and Iris pulled up the pictures she'd taken in Angelo's office.

She laid it out in front of Barry without a word.

He glanced at the phone briefly before he stopped typing and did an actual triple take.

"What the," he picked up the phone to see if he was seeing the picture correctly. "Is that...?"

"It's an explosive," Iris finished.

Barry shook his head and whistled.

"That’s not just an explosive," he said. "It's a dirty bomb."

Iris nodded. "Completely undetectable and solely designed to kill a mass amount of people.”

"And this was just sitting in his office?" Barry asked incredulously. "In his _house?_ "

"The safe I cracked was pretty secure, but yeah. It was just sitting inside an ordinary travel suitcase," Iris told him.

Barry was grateful he knew Iris well enough not to expect an "I told you so."

“So they're terrorists,” Barry sat back heavily.

"No, they just sell stuff to terrorists," Iris corrected. "That's why they went on their 'business trip'. I just don’t know how the hell they ever got that through homeland security?”

“The suitcase is lined with a reflective polymer," Barry observed pointing to the pictures. "See here. And that flap right there. It would’ve given off a totally mundane picture of t-shirts and rolled socks for the airport scanners.”

"This'll sell for a couple of million on the black market," Iris told him.

Barry nodded. "That's exactly where it's gonna be resold after auction."

"So we have to call in EOD at Oversight before the next one," Iris said.

"The only problem is we gave no idea when that is. The auctions only pop up with 24-hour notice," Barry reminded her.

"Who's our agent in the basement for this op?" Iris asked. "We'll have to find a way to dismantle this thing as soon as possible."

"It's Agent Ramon," Barry told her. "I'll call him right now, see if he's ever seen anything like it."

After a string of impressive curse words, Cisco let them know that he in fact had _not_ seen anything like that before. And after consulting Oversight's EOD squad, they realized it be at least a week or two before they could practice enough to attempt to disable and dispose of a bomb that intricate.

Cisco scheduled them to come in the following day so that he could examine the pictures himself and so Iris could go over every detail she could remember of Angelo's safe.

 

Barry and Iris were back at Oversight the next afternoon waiting around while Cisco finished a training exercise with recruits.

Iris had gotten to the company a little earlier than Barry, hoping she could catch Mason and confront him about telling her such bold-faced lies when he’d called her up about the op.

But, Mason had been infuriatingly dismissive of Iris’s anger.

"Agent West-Allen, you're a sight for sore eyes,” he had greeted fondly when she strolled into his office.

“Don’t be too happy to see me,” Iris warned. “This isn’t a friendly drop in.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“You lied to me, Mason,” Iris said angrily. “Whatever line you and Francine fed me about Barry going out of his way to request my help was total bullshit. He doesn’t even want me here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Mason argued. “And I didn’t really lie.”

“Really?” Iris asked. “So what would you call that?”

Mason thought for a minute. “An amiable nudge.”

Iris took a deep breath. “We’re not a team right now. At all. And us not being on the same page is dangerous. Any report of the last week would show we’re hours away from blowing our own cover cause we can’t get it together.”

"Well, you know you’re not obligated give me report for another nine days,” Mason joked as he fixed his tie and grabbed his coat. “Plenty of time to turn things around.”

Iris frowned. “Mason we can’t-“

“Sorry,” Mason interjected, not sorry at all. “Not that this isn’t super important, but I’m running late for a very important meeting with the Director myself.”

He cuffed Iris’s chin on his way past her. “I’m sure you’ll be able to put on your big girl pants long enough to figure something out, Mrs. Allen,” he called back. “I’ve never known you as a quitter.”

Iris didn't know how true that was these days.

“Cisco says it’s going to be another 45 minutes,” Barry announced, breaking Iris out of her rumination. “Apparently this year’s batch of tech recruits are ‘a bunch of AppleCare rejects that are in competition to see who can make my hair fall out first.' ” He read Cisco’s text.

Iris laughed. “Cisco would burn this place to the ground before he let anyone mess up his hair.”

Barry laughed too. “Yeah, he would.”

Their laughter died down and Iris could feel Barry’s eyes on her.

He waited a few minutes before he said, “About yesterday,”

But Iris waved him off. “We got proof of what the Morottas are planning to sell and we have perfect audio surveillance. That’s what mattered at the end of the day.”

“No- I… I know, but I- what you said, about me belittling you. That’s not what I was trying to do,” Barry said.

“It wasn’t?” Iris questioned. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Barry opened his mouth to counter, but sighed.

“Why do you automatically think I’ve been doing things just to spite you?” Barry wondered.

“I don’t,” Iris refuted.

“Yes you do,” Barry insisted. “Ever since you landed you’ve been on the defense and you look at me as if I’m this bolt of lightning just looking for an opening to cut you down.”

“What am I supposed to think, Barry? You haven’t said two words to me that aren’t about the job.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here isn’t it?” Barry asked. “That’s why you’re here.”

“That’s not just why I’m here and you know it.”

“I don’t,” Barry told her looking away. “I don’t know that.”

Iris’s eyes stung. She took a step towards him. “Barry…I-"

“Iris,” a voice called behind her.

They turned around to see Francine standing by the elevators.

“Mom,” Iris greeted in surprise. Her mom never really wandered far from the administrative wing. “I thought you were in a meeting.”

“It ended early,” Francine said, smiling. “Perfect timing.”

She walked over to Iris and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart. You look well.”

“Thanks, mom. You too,” Iris responded.

Francine pulled back and acknowledged Barry. “Hello, Agent Allen.”

“Good afternoon, Director West,” Barry responded simply.

Francine returned her gaze to her daughter and looked her over more thoroughly.

“Your hair is different,” Francine noted.

Iris shrugged, already uncomfortable under her mother’s gaze. “I just needed a little change.”

Francine’s smile made an infinitesimal twitch to somehow take on a disapproving undertone.

A sight that Iris was so used to seeing; she knew what was coming next.

“A vacation in Belgium for a year didn’t bring change enough,” Francine joked with little humor. “You must’ve had a lot of downtime.”

Iris gritted her teeth. "Not at all actually."

"Don't mumble, honey," Francine tsked. "I sent a letter to the apartment you both are stationed in. I wanted to meet up a few days ago to go over some things, but I assume you were busy since I got no response whatsoever."

"We were," Iris said. " _Super_ busy."

Francine ran a hand along Iris's cheek. "You _are_ looking a little run down, sweetheart. And the short hair isn't helping to hide it. Make sure you get enough sleep even when you're working. We wouldn't want you to leave us for the Bahamas next so soon."

In her peripheral, Iris saw Barry take a small step forward.

“Agent Allen you won’t mind me stealing my daughter away for a few minutes,” Francine asked, not looking away from Iris. "We have some things to discuss."

She didn't wait for a response before she ushered Iris towards the elevators.

Iris turned to try to ask Barry to wait, but he held up a hand of understanding before she could.

Of course, he knew about dealing with Francine West all too well.

Iris's mom offered her a nice chilled glass of wine when they entered her office before she gestured for her to sit.

"How was your trip overall? Did Agent Waller treat you well?"

"She was...hospitable," Iris said.

Amanda Waller was Francine's number two.

Her right hand woman who handled recruitment and oversaw operations abroad.

Francine was known for her no nonsense attitude and running a tight ship, but she wasn't feared the way Waller was.

Once you graduated to field agent, seeing Waller for any reason usually meant you'd fucked up badly or you were about to get fucked over.

The fact that Iris willingly sought Agent Waller out one night in desperation for an overseas assignment was a testament to her state of mind last year.

"How was the task force?" Francine inquired.

"Productive," Iris said.

"Agent Waller was sad to see you go?" She asked.

Iris shrugged and made a non-committal sound.

And Francine stifled an eye roll at her daughter's evasion.

"I wanted to see if any upcoming jobs caught your eye," Francine explained, moving on. She waved a hand and pulled up a half a dozen case files above her desk.

"I actually thought I could work on any of the cases I left pending when I went to Brussels." Iris said cautiously as her mom breezed through them.

She knew bringing up the ops she left high and dry eight months ago was opening herself up to Francine's scrutiny and criticism.

But, her mom just blinked at her.

"Those are closed," Francine said frowning a little. "Most of them were completed months ago; the last of it was finished two weeks ago."

"By who?" Iris asked in confusion. "Every single one of them required level 8 clearance. Which field agents were able to do all that?"

"One agent," Francine told her. "Allen."

"Barry?" Iris asked in shock.

"Your husband was kind enough to take over all of the operations in your docket when you left. He renegotiated some terms of his probation with myself and Agent Waller and assembled a small tactical team to help when needed."

Iris's mouth fell open. In his eight years at Oversight, Barry had only ever been on an alpha team out in the field twice including the mission they were currently on.

Yes, his skill set allowed for him to theoretically be a field agent and work in his lab, but Barry only ever stayed in Oversight.

He was the voice in Iris's earpiece giving her tactical advice from the basements when she needed it, explaining how to use the gadgets he created for her.

"Barry definitely stepped up these last few months and helped balance the hecticness we suddenly found ourselves in," Francine said, her steel gaze letting Iris know that she put the blame of chaos solely on her shoulders.

And Iris tried not to feel bitter about Francine finally giving Barry a compliment at the expense of reprimanding her.

Though Francine West was the epitome of professionalism and respect, almost everyone knew how Francine felt about her only daughter's marriage to fellow recruit Barry Allen just a week shy of her twentieth birthday.

After Barry proposed, it felt like the engagement hadn't gone over well with anyone.

Francine had forbidden Iris from even wearing her engagement ring and when that obviously failed, she banned all forms of jewelry from the training camp grounds.

Joe West stressed how young Iris was and how much potential she'd be throwing away if she went through with a wedding at her age.

Henry Allen responded to Barry's letter of good news with words of caution and worry that he was moving too quickly. And even suggested in his own sympathetic way that Barry was trying to fill the emotional void his traumatic childhood left.

Fellow recruits in their class not-so-subtly accused Barry of using Iris to raise his status, and their closest friends were supportive, but were understandably careful not appear too happy in front of their boss.

With most of their world seeming to be against them, Barry and Iris felt they couldn't really be blamed for eventually just driving to Lake Tahoe and eloping on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

And Francine, who found out two weeks later when Iris formally requested a name change in her file, never really forgave them.

Of course, she put the majority of the blame on the quiet green-eyed boy who swooped in out of nowhere and ruined her daughter's life.

But, because they were without a doubt the two best recruits she had and because they were her family, she mended what she could with Iris and she tolerated Barry.

Well, she tried to tolerate him anyway.

Seven years later and she was still trying.

"Barry's always been a hard worker," Iris agreed readily. "I'm glad you finally saw it."

Iris knew that got under her mom's skin, but before Francine could retort, Iris' watch went off.

"That's Agent Ramon. Barry and I are meeting him so I have to go," Iris explained, standing up. "Send those files to my docket and I'll look them over and get back to you."

"Iris," Francine called before she reached the door.

"Yes, mother?" Iris breathed out.

"Are you up for all of this?" Francine asked quietly. "Truly?"

Iris's breath hitched at the seriousness and concern in her mother's eyes.

"I'm fine," she assured softly.

"Grief isn't something to hide away from," Francine said slowly. "It's always right there waiting where you left it."

"It's been a little over a year. I'm not grieving anymore." Iris said, holding tightly to her calm expression.

"You know, I think I remember your brother mentioning something once or twice about Barry seeing a grief counselor a few months back," Francine said, offhandedly, but Iris could feel her stare drilling into her, looking for a slip of any kind. "I could ask if they were any good."

Iris's heart was beating a mile a minute. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Really I am. I have to go."

"Iris," her mom called again, but Iris left her mom's office in a hurry.

She rounded the corner and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to regulate her breathing before it got out of hand.

It took a few minutes, but she was able to keep her inhales nice and steady, ignoring the bustle in the halls below.

"Iris."

Barry stood a ways away, holding his cell.

Iris pushed off the wall and went to him.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes held a world of understanding.

"Cisco called," Barry told her. "He's ready for us."

Iris nodded and followed him back to the elevators.

She was grateful he didn't say anything about her mother.

But, he did peek at her under his eyelashes a few times as if to check if she was alright.

As they stepped out the elevators, Barry cleared his throat and Iris looked up at him curiously.

"I like your hair like that," he revealed. "Makes you look like you should be smoking a cigarette while you paint under the Eiffel tower."

Iris guffawed at the nonsensical image. "What?"

Barry shrugged, but his lips curled into a tiniest grin. "I don't know. That's what I thought when I first saw it. Very chic."

Iris shook her head. She smiled and felt some of the heaviness in her chest dissipate. "Thank you."

Barry nodded and held the basement door open for her before stepping through himself.


	3. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UnBeta-ed and I'm genuinely too tired to give this a third re-read so sorry for any errors.

Iris always loved watching Linda with a weapon in her hand. There was something therapeutic about how skillfully Linda could switch hands and whip out weapon you never even noticed was there. 

Besides Barry and Cisco and Wally, Linda had been the only thing Iris had missed at the company. So she was grateful when she got to meet up with her in the weapons lab at Oversight for a few hours. 

Barry was going over some satellite pictures they needed with Cisco, so Iris had spent her morning watching Linda work her magic as they caught up.

"Did you hear about what happened in Spain?" Linda asked.

Iris jumped a little. She'd been watching Linda methodically sharpen her knife and drifted into a small daydream. 

"No. What?" Iris asked.

"Three agents were ambushed in their safehouse,” Linda said. “No one knows by who, but everyone's trying to figure out what went wrong."

"Their cover was blown?" Iris wondered. "What was their assignment?"

"That's the thing," Linda said. "There was no assignment. They were just there as security detail for some fancy diplomat. But, the diplomat is fine. There wasn't an attempt on him or his family. Just our three agents in the middle of the night in their safehouse. One was killed, the other two managed to escape, but they're in Medical. Intensive care."

"That all sounds shady as hell," Iris said.

"Tell me about it," Linda said. She started dismantling her handgun. "And everyone's been a little freaked out. I heard Waller on a video call in Logistics raising holy hell."

Iris groaned. "The last thing I would need right now is for Waller to get on a plane and come roam the halls with Barry and me on the outs. I know she'll just make everything worse.

"How's that going by the way?" Linda asked.

Iris sighed.

After their run in with Francine, Barry had made an effort to be nicer to Iris.

Or at least more accommodating.

He sat down for breakfast with her now (not that he said much while they ate) and he eased up significantly on his micromanaging.

Iris felt like there was room enough now for them to breathe just a bit easier.

When she thanked him for helping her with all her cases he accepted her gratitude with a tiny shrug and assurance he was just doing what she'd do.

Their communication had improved a lot too. 

Granted, Barry made sure they only really ever talked about the op, but he’d put down some of his defenses and Iris was able to do the same.

Iris just shook her head.

Linda whistled. "For the life of me, I really can't picture a world where you and Barry aren't off in a corner in your own world, huddled together giggling at whatever corny joke Barry's made."

"We don't giggle," Iris defended. "And his jokes aren't corny."

"Yes, you do," Linda said waving a rag. "And yes they are. But, no one would know from how hard you're always laughing."

Iris rolled her eyes. She was used to Linda's relentless teasing about her and Barry's relationship.

"Yeah well... it's not like that anymore," she said glumly. "Not at all."

“So, you don’t think it’s weird that this is the most you’ve talked to Barry in almost a year?” Linda queried.

Iris fixed her with an angry look of disbelief.

“No, Linda I don’t. This is all completely normal and wonderful for me,” she snapped sarcastically.

Linda rolled her eyes and held up her hands. "Alright, damn. No need to bite my head off. Was just saying."

Iris did find it was disconcerting that she could hurt Barry Allen until regarded her with anything other than patience and gentleness.

Or until he would rather use her ID number to address her than have to utter the last name she shared with him.

In Oversight, she'd heard him refer to her as Agent 618 when he thought she couldn't hear. And it'd been a stab in the stomach.

"You know he's not wearing his wedding ring," Iris revealed what she hadn't wanted to acknowledge out loud.

She noticed the very first time she saw him at that lounge. 

The ring Barry wore for their cover wasn't his actual wedding ring.

That wasn't the white gold band they had picked out together.

It wasn't the one she'd almost dropped at their wedding because she'd been so nervous to put it on him.

She'd never seen Barry take his ring off for anything. Not once in seven years.

She dreaded what it meant that he didn't have it on now. That he'd swapped it for a fake for the op. Or maybe there was no swap. Maybe his finger had been bare for months now.

"I really fucked up," Iris mumbled.

"You're putting too much of the blame on yourself," Linda frowned, immediately feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over her. "You leaving wasn't the start of all this, Iris. It came at the end. As much as I love Barry, if he makes you feel otherwise he's being an asshole.”

Iris looked down.

"This isn't all your fault," Linda told her.

Iris's mouth quirked into a helpless smile. "Isn't it?"

A heavy silence followed before Linda tried again.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I don't know what you're going through. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like in that moment. Holding her-" Linda trailed off when see Iris' face drop.

"I do know about loss," she continued because she knew her friend needed to hear this. "And I know about grief. And I know how it will steal your soul if you let it. Don't let it, Iris."

"I've tried," Iris whispered earnestly. "I tried not to. And look at the huge mess I made. My husband hates me."

"Babe, literally the only thing I know for certain in this chaotic, sometimes fucked up world we live in is that Barry Allen loves you with every single part of himself. He's just hurt right now and a little bruised and is maybe being an ass.” Iris chuckled tearfully. “But, he does love you," Linda said ardently. "Everything will work out. I promise."

Linda hugged her. "Okay?"

Iris's chin quivered. "Okay."

"So how goes week three?" Cisco asked as he typed in information from another paper Barry handed him.

Barry mumbled and shrugged.

"Not dead yet."

Cisco looked at him until Barry sighed. "I don't know, man. It's going. Half the time it feels like old times, like things can be normal between us and the other half I feel like we're drowning. Right back where we were when she left." he picked at his sleeve.

"You know… you never let yourself really process everything that happened last year," Cisco broached carefully. "You saw a counselor what once? Then nothing. It might still help to talk to someone."

"The counselor was useless," Barry muttered. "I couldn't even tell him the whole story cause I can't exactly tell civilians what we do for a living."

"That's why we have counselors here," Cisco reminded him for the hundredth time.

"No time," he said. His usual excuse.

"You make time. It's been eight months, Barry. The time to see one was actually a year ago when everything first happened.”

"How could I when I had a job that wouldn't slow down for even a second and a wife that was-" Barry stopped.

"She looked a whole lot better when I saw her the other day," Cisco said after several minutes.

"Yeah," Barry agreed. "She does."

Then he chuckled humorlessly. "All it took was eight months and five thousand miles away from me."

Cisco frowned. "Hey. That's not fair."

He was still getting used to the sarcasm and anger that sometimes seeped out of his best friend when his guard was up.

"She just needed to get away from the pain and the pressure that was here."

" _I_ was here," Barry said plainly.

Cisco didn't have a response.

Barry sighed harshly.

He was tired of feeling sorry for himself.

And he was so tired of feeling angry.

Angry at everything and everyone.

And he was tired of feeling the most angry at himself for being angry at Iris.

For not protecting her enough from the darkness that seemed to snatch her joy.

For not being enough for her to get it back.

"This was all my fault anyway," he reminded Cisco. "It would make sense she'd be doing so well without me there."

"Barry," Cisco tried to counter.

But, Barry put up his hand not wanting to go into all of that again. "Can we just run through the satellite pictures one more time?"

 

"No iPod?" Barry asked as he and Iris settled on the top of a small hill. "We're gonna be here a while."

They were low; out of view, obstructed by trees right at the edge of the perimeter of the Morottas' go to meeting site.

They'd gotten intel from one of Barry's bugs that the mobsters were having a meeting for payment over a service the Morottas had provided earlier in the year for another crime family.

Barry and Iris hadn't been able to figure out what they'd helped with, but whatever it was, it was worth the $3.4 million the Santino family was bringing.

Barry and Iris planned to intercept the hand off because there was no doubt the money would be used to indirectly fund whatever auction of the dirty bomb the brothers were planning.

They had done a full week of painstaking surveillance to make sure they knew the ins and outs of the area for a quick swipe and escape.

They just needed the money out of the Morottas' hands to land a blow. 

They knew it wouldn't bring much change to the bigger problems. They still had to figure out how to either transport a live bomb or sneak an EOD unit into Angelo's house for them to disable it.

So, getting caught tonight wasn't an option.

And for this, Barry knew Iris worked best with her music.

Iris was notorious for her intense focus, deadly precision and sharp dedication.

For literally everything but long-period stakeouts. 

She never cared for them as a recruit and it only annoyed her more as a field agent.

She only managed to get through the boredom of staring at empty buildings for hours on end by blasting her iPod until something interesting happened.

Barry never understood how she heard anything around her with her headphones so loud, but if someone even coughed inside she'd be instantly alert and ready.

Barry always joked and called her a lightning rod when she was like that.

"Don't need it,” Iris told him as she staked her gun stabilizer into the ground. “I've gotten used to surveillance; it was like 60% of what I did in-"

She caught herself. The last thing they needed was hours of awkward tension in a small space.

Barry shifted a little.

"You can talk about it,” he permitted. “It's not a dirty secret."

"Hmm," Iris commented neutrally. The tiny scowl on his face he was trying to hide said otherwise.

"What did you do in Brussels?" he asked when it was clear Iris wasn't going to say more. "I overheard Francine mentioned something about a task force."

Iris nodded. "Yeah. Um…Waller has an old contact at NASA who’s been running some secret research project," Iris recalled, still a little hesitant. "He needed a team to run point and surveillance for his facility so he gave the contract to Amanda."

Barry's eyebrow rose. He didn't know what he'd pictured Iris doing after she left, but it definitely wasn't something as mundane as that. 

Maybe her probation hadn't been lifted like he'd thought. "Sitting. That's different than what you're used to."

Iris chuckled and nodded. "It was a good change. Long days, but the quiet was... healing, I guess. Brussels was so different than here. No one knew me there. No one was treating me like there was something wrong with me. It was nice."

Something dimmed in his eyes and Barry looked away.

Iris realized how that had sounded.

"I didn't...I didn't mean-"

_I didn't mean you_.

Barry quirked his mouth. "Don't worry about it," he told her. He gestured to her equipment. "You're done right?"

Iris nodded, but Barry was already turning away down the hill.

Iris berated herself for not explaining what she meant well enough.

But, she was too scared to try again in case Barry shut her down altogether.

They made their way into the abandoned warehouse and put their equipment in a small room in the back.

The space was tiny; barely enough room for the both of them to move at the same time, but its vantage point was a benefit.

Barry bent down and started clanking away on his laptop.

When Iris accidently brushed against Barry's neck, his entire body shuddered and he quickly stood and adjusted his computer to play it off.

The whole thing lasted a few seconds, but the effect on Iris was immediate and intense.

After two weeks, the longing she was harboring for an emotional reconnection with her husband was easily melting into longing of a different kind.

One she hadn't permitted herself to feel since before she left.

Now, she allowed herself an appreciative glance at his somewhat tense physique.

His hair was a little longer than when she left.

He still styled it up in that perfectly coiffed sweep, but Iris noticed the extra volume.

And she'd caught sight a few times of him coming out after his morning shower before he'd had time to gel it. It fell a little over his eyes. 

Eyes that were guarded, but a lot less desperate than the last time she'd seen them eight months ago. Less bloodshot.

They were closer to how they were when things were still good between them.

And they were filling her with a heat that was almost stifling.

"What?" Barry questioned, brows knitted together.

She hadn't noticed he was looking at her and Iris's face grew hot at being caught. "Nothing."

She grabbed the laptop from him and handed him a tablet. "Good to go?"

Barry nodded, "Yeah, just walk it to the storage containers we passed on the way in. The tablet will do the rest.”

Iris squeezed out of the tiny space and headed back outside.

"Target area is Sector B," Barry noted through the comms.

Iris looked at the laptop's GPS. "Distance is three hundred and ten meters.

"Confirm three hundred and ten," Barry relayed.

The tablet flashed. "Wind is now two inches left."

"Copy that. Two inches left," she said moving over. "Wind speeds?"

"Steady," Barry read off his tablet. "It shouldn't change before the meeting."

A message popped up on the screen.

"Damn," he sighed.

"What is it?" Iris asked.

"Cisco says the EOD hit a snag with their simulation and they're gonna have to start over from scratch," Barry read the text.

Iris breathed through her nose. "Damn. Well, we expected as much, right? It's a unique, complex setup. Wouldn’t be so valuable if it was easy to crack.

"I know," Barry agreed. Though he'd been hoping the engineers in the Basement could get it.

It was imperative for them to disable the bomb long before the auction.

They had no idea the process of where or how the auction would take place and that left too many variables unaccounted for.

If Barry and Iris didn't stop the Morottas long before they received the 24 hour auction notice, the chances of them getting to the bomb the next day were slim to none.

And a lot of people somewhere would die.

"We'll get it, Barry," Iris promised firmly.

"Yeah," he concurred, breaking out of his stressed thoughts. He looked at the tablet. Iris had reached the containers and the laptop and tablet were triangulating.

In a minute he would have a 360° view of the north side of the area.

"I got it," Barry said. "Nice work. You can come back."

Okay," Iris said. She was walking back when she heard voices and slamming doors.

"Shit!"

"What?" Barry wondered.

He didn't get an answer but he suddenly heard yelling and gunshots on Iris's end.

"Iris?! What was that?!"

She didn't respond and he immediately chucked the tablet and grabbed a firearm.

There wasn't supposed to be _anyone_ in this area much less people with guns.

Unless their cover was blown.

Barry just turned to run outside when Iris came barreling to him.

"We've got company," she shouted and Barry reflexively raised his gun.

Iris was unarmed with nowhere to duck so she pushed Barry back into the tiny space, pressing up against him until there was no space between them.

Their height difference gave Barry a clean shot over her head without interference. 

Just in time for him to drop the first person that appeared in the doorway.

Barry was grateful he'd raised his gun before they'd both squeezed into the space.

It was so tight that he wouldn't have been able to do so now that they were inside.

"Who are they?" He yelled above the ricochet off bullets as two more men started shooting at them.

Iris didn't respond and Barry panicked for a minute before he realized she just couldn't hear over the noise.

As he dropped another gunman, Barry had enough presence of mind to put his empty hand over Iris's ear, pressing her face against his chest and as far away from the firing gun as space would allow.

The narrow space gave them a cover that Barry was grateful for.

All he had to do was wait for someone to step into his line of vision and shoot.

He popped the five men off one by one and the fire fight was over in minutes.

They both waited a while longer for any sound of movement.

When they heard none, Iris stepped back and caught her breath.

"Are you alright?" Barry asked right away, his gaze raking over her.

"Fine," Iris said. She gestured vaguely to his gun. "Just loud."

"Those five weren't supposed to be here," Barry stated the obvious.

His and Iris's recon had been thorough.

There was nothing to suggest a change in plans.

"Maybe the Morottas changed the meet time," Iris supplied.

"Maybe," Barry said. "But, why would they?"

"I don't know," Iris said. "But, if they did that means more guys will be here soon. The bullets and dead bodies kind of blew our cloak of invisibility so we’ve gotta get out of here. Now."

She tossed a duffle bag at Barry and started packing up.

They made it back to the safehouse with all their things after scrubbing any trace of the gunfight being tied back to them.

They couldn't exactly take care of the bodies so they had to leave them there.

The guys were definitely the Morotta's people. Iris recognized three of them from their files and Barry swiped pictures of the other two to run through facial recognition.

The Morottas had so many enemies all Barry and Iris could hope was that they'd think it was a rival family and no one new.

As soon as they got home, Barry got on the computer and scanned through the audio files of the day.

He needed to know what changed and what their next course of action was, but he couldn’t find anything.

He and Iris stayed glued to all their surveillance equipment for hours waiting for a sign they had to act, but everything remained calm and normal.

Nothing was adding up.

After a while, they had to make a choice of how to proceed.

"What do we do now?" Barry asked.

"We have to stick to the schedule," Iris decided. "If nothing seems out of the ordinary we can't seem out of place either until we need to be."

Barry bit his lip then nodded. She was right.

"Now," Iris stood and grabbed her phone. "Did you decide on Italian or Mediterranean for dinner?"

 

The last few weeks Iris and Laurel had been hopping back and forth between lunch dates and dinner dates, coffee meet ups and a few leisure afternoons at Laurel's country club.

Laurel was very big on home meals so she was constantly inviting Barry and Iris to her house. This was fine at first since they used the opportunities to bug the hell out of it, but after a while it became obvious that Iris never reciprocated.

So Barry and Iris finally invited Jimmy and Laurel over for dinner at their apartment.

They'd picked the same day that they planned to steal from the mobsters just for better obscurity.

Barry and Iris finally packed up their surveillance tech and locked it in the secure safe before going to get showered and dressed

After Iris was made up and slipped her dress on, she spent a whole five minutes trying to zip herself up so she wouldn't have to ask Barry for help, but she wasn't having any luck.

She didn't want him to think she was being pushy or something.

Especially after whatever moment that was in that warehouse.

A tiny voice scolded her. He _was_ her husband. 

They'd been together for almost a decade! She couldn't be blamed for her body's natural reaction to the sight of him.

But, after eight months apart, she knew her rights to ogle at him or knock on his bedroom door with a half-zipped dress weren't exactly steady.

She dropped her hands in frustration and was thinking up a way to use a hanger for the job when Barry himself knocked before entering her room.

"Last of my clothes," he said brandishing a few pressed shirts and a suit.

He'd spent the last half hour ferrying all of his things from the guest bedroom into the master bedroom with her.

For agents undercover, safehouses were basically a base of operations away from Oversight.

And it could be any type of dwelling: a house in the suburbs, a tiny apartment in a busy city, a freaking igloo in the middle of the artic- whatever the cover story dictated.

It was preferred that agents keep their safehouses confidential if they could, but for the ops where targets or civilians had to know where an operative lived, protocol mandated that once a safehouse had been opened to public, a total blanket of normalcy had to be followed at all times.

That meant once a civilian stepped foot in your house any and all traces of you being anything other than precisely what was in your cover folder says were to be scrubbed.

So no blueprints laying around, no guns and ammo on the kitchen table, no laptops and surveillance cams on the couch.

The night before they'd received a box of pictures clearly taken from their actual loft.

One of the perks of having a pair of married spies; Oversight didn’t have to waste resources doctoring dozens of pictures of a happy couple in love.

The two of them had tried not to stare too hard at them as they placed the frames around the penthouse.

At all times now until they were done with the mission, the penthouse had to resemble that of a happy married couple.

And happy married couples stayed in the same bedroom.

So Barry moved all his things into the master bedroom and the guest room was put back to look unoccupied.

Iris jumped back and forth between looking at her reflection and looking at Barry hanging his clothes in the same space as hers again.

"Geez what happened?" Iris asked in concern when she caught a glimpse of an angry red scar on Barry's wrist.

Iris hadn't noticed it before, probably because his sleeves weren't were normally rolled. It looked old and healing so it couldn't have been from this morning, but it was very obvious it must've hurt a great deal when he got it.

Barry looked at what she was grimacing at and actually laughed.

"Fudge never likes me feeding him," he explained. "He's finally convinced the turtle I'm up to no good, too."

Iris chuckled a little, relaxed a bit and shook her head.

Their pets.

A sleepy old turtle and the fluffy, white rabbit.

Barry had gone out one night for a jog and returned earlier than normal due to a flash thunderstorm.

Iris had been in the living room pretending to watch t.v. while staring into space when Barry came around the couch and presented her with a puffy, brown-spotted bunny rabbit and a tiny turtle sitting on the bunny's back.

_"They uhh kept trying to follow me home," Barry had explained sheepishly as he carefully held them in his hands._

_"I outran them after a while, but the rain...I went back for them." He shrugged, unsure how she'd react to two dripping wet animals._  
Iris hadn't said much in those days.

She always looked so sad and so incredibly lost.

But, she blinked at him for a minute and then she snorted, more from the absurdity of the situation than anything else.

Then she was full-on laughing at the sight of her husband soaked to the bone carrying a confused looking rabbit with matted fur and the half-asleep turtle perched on top of it.

And Barry started laughing too until tears were mixing with the rain still splattered all over his face.

They spent the remainder of the night giving the fidgety bunny a bath and chopping up greens for him and his friend to munch on.

They played rock, paper, scissors to decide which animal they'd each get to name and it took no time to settle on two that they both liked.

McSnurtle and Mr. Fudge.

"That rabbit's had it out for you since you saved his life," Iris chuckled. 

Mr. Fudge hated Barry. 

He was always nipping at him and hopping away whenever Barry was near him.

At first they thought he was being territorial with his turtle friend, but that wasn't it.

McSnurtle came and went as she pleased, cuddling up to whoever was around with no complaints.

And Mr. Fudge never seemed to mind.

But, Barry always seemed to draw the rabbit's ire no matter what he was doing.

"I keep telling you to just stay away before he pokes your eye out one day," Iris giggled.

"I would've," he said putting his hand up and closing the closet door. "Trust me. But, someone had to feed him."

Barry hadn’t meant to, but just like that, the rare instance of ease and laughter was sucked away.

Feeding and grooming the rabbit was always Iris's job since Barry only ever got bit when he tried.

"They miss you," Barry said lowly, keeping his eyes on the closet door.

Iris hid her surprise. 

Thinking about them made her smile fondly all the same. "I do miss them a lot," she realized out loud.

There was a minute of silence before she startled when she felt Barry's warm hand on her bare back.

He deftly zipped up her dress for her.

Iris looked back at her reflection in the mirror.

Barry was close behind her. She could feel the soft heat radiating from his chest.

He looked content just standing there, his eyes traced over her neck and shoulder blades before slowly rising up to meet hers through the mirror.

Iris didn't speak, just watched him wrestle with himself a little before he slid careful fingers over her shoulder blade and slowly straightened her necklace.

She watched her head tilt a little to the side to give his ministrations more room.

And caught sight of his left hand.

"Where's your ring?" She whispered before she could help it.

She'd promised herself she wasn't going to ask and cursed internally for breaking that.

But, she was hit with the insatiable need to know. 

She just needed to know where his head was, past the anger, past all his walls; she just needed to know how he felt about her.

Barry shook his head sadly. "I don't..." He struggled.

Iris didn't blink. "Did you get rid of it?"

Barry didn't answer.

She could feel his other hand flexing at his side.

He did that to break his habit of rubbing the back of his neck when he was nervous or upset.

But, Iris held his gaze in the mirror.

She needed to know that much.

If he'd gotten rid of the symbol of their union.

If he'd been done with her before she'd even tried.

But, the doorbell rang.

And Barry stepped back.

And as he turned to leave his finger reached out to graze her ring almost imperceptibly.

 

Though she was a tad bit clingy now that she felt like she had a real friend in Iris, Laurel was fun to pass time with.

Even Iris was impressed by how intelligent and humble and funny Laurel actually was.

Which made her relationship with Jimmy even more confounding.

They seemed like total opposites. Jimmy was somewhat crass and hotheaded and Laurel was soft spoken and poised.

Dinner was its usual affair of expensive wine and flowing conversation.

Now that she was comfortable with them, Iris could see Laurel had the same trait as her sister-in-laws of leaving no story or joke untold.

She finished recounting a story of one of Lisa's kids that had everyone laughing, even Jimmy who'd been particularly distracted all night.

"So do the two of you want any kids?" Laurel asked.

Iris faltered for a second. "Um, sure. One day, I think. Right, honey?"

"Yeah sure," Barry agreed. "Someday. A day far from now though. After business slows."

Jimmy chortled and raised a glass. "Amen. Does that excuse work when your parents won't let up about grandkids, too?"

"Actually that's the trick of getting married young," Barry grinned. "No one's breathing down your back to start having kids anytime soon. Our parents were actually begging and bribing us not to."

The group roared with laughter.

And Iris seemed to be the only one to notice Barry's smile was nowhere near his eyes.

Iris tried not to sulk as the night wore on.

She knew her wine and food would all taste a hundred times more flavorful if she were drinking it across from Jimmy knowing she’d robbed him blind a few hours beforehand.

But, there was no way they could’ve tried to salvage that.

And now she was stuck enduring his bolstering personality and sleazy vibe with no reward all night.

If Laurel didn't notice the way Jimmy leered at Iris, or frankly any woman that was by him, she was either being willfully ignorant or she was the blindest woman in the world.

All throughout dinner he rotated from being on his phone to grunting and half-paying attention to whatever conversation the rest of the group were on to looking at Iris across the table as if he were undressing her in his mind and then back to his phone.

Though he did manage to spare a few stray kisses and shoulder rubs that seemed to ignite Laurel's entire being. 

It was like she only came fully alive when Jimmy was touching her.

Iris found it nauseating.

She did perk up when Jimmy got a text sometime after dessert and his face turned so red, Iris was sure he'd stopped breathing.

He left the table with a choked excuse and went to make a call on their balcony.

Even with the door and windows closed, the three of them could hear him yelling and cursing at whoever was on the other end.

Barry and Iris shared a look. Laurel blushed. 

"Sorry, you'll have to excuse him. He's been so stressed at work," she explained. "He... isn't getting approval for a new building he wants to design."

Barry waved off her apologies and Iris said she'd make relaxing cocktails and asked Laurel for her help by the bar.

"Sorry about that again," Laurel said.

"Don't worry about it. Michael's been pretty stressed these days too," Iris said, her voice low, distracted.

"Is this about what you mentioned at tennis on Thursday?" Laurel prodded.

Iris had been making it a point to drop hints that she’d wanted to confess something big to Laurel the last few weeks.

She'd make a production of stammering and getting teary-eyed before she shook her head and changed the subject altogether.

After their tennis game at Laurel's country club on Thursday Iris had made sure Laurel was looking when she pretended to get an upsetting text before she mentioned being worried about Michael in a distressed tone.

She always deflected Laurel's questions of concern. 

Iris needed it to seem monumental for ‘Nicole’ to finally confide in Laurel so that Laurel would feel protective and in turn safe to share something deep about her own life.

"Right now you're the only friend I have," Iris whispered. "One I can really trust I mean."

Laurel put a hand on her arm and said sincerely. "You can tell me."

"Michael... he-he didn't just work for the government," Iris stuttered. "He's spent most of his career working for...other types of clients, too."

Laurel leaned in.

"He helps people. You know, businessmen who don't have the means or time to go through the government's red tape," Iris stressed.

And Laurel's eyes cleared in understanding. "Oh, I didn't know."

Iris shrugged and sniffed. "This last year he's just been so overworked and run down. I'm just worried about him. He doesn't sleep, he's always in the office, he's lost so much weight. I thought the move would do him good, but..."

Laurel tsked.

"I just wish he could focus on just one project," Iris sighed. "Just one contract that was solid so he wouldn't have to stretch himself so thin."

Laurel looked back at Barry sympathetically and Iris saw a flash of contemplation across her face.

"But, you can't tell _anyone_ ," Iris said, eyes wide with worry as if realizing what she'd just confessed. "Not even Jimmy. If some people knew what he did on the side..."

"But, Jimmy could help," Laurel assured quickly. "Maybe he could-"

"No! Not Jimmy not Lisa or Shelby," Iris said. "No one. Promise me. Please."

"I won't tell anyone," Laurel promised right away. "I won't say a word."

Iris smiled gratefully and changed the subject to what drinks they should make and Jimmy came back inside, feigning a much calmer mood than when he left.

Laurel stayed right by Iris's side the rest of the night, shooting her reassuring smiles and declaring she’d be taking her shopping at the end of the night when her and Jimmy were leaving.

Iris hugged her and thanked her for her promise of silence.

"How do you know she'll tell?" Barry asked later on when he and Iris were alone again.

"She is completely enamored by him," Iris said. "She'll tell him."

Barry had come up with a plan at the last minute to get another chance at the Morotta's money. If any of them brought "Michael" on for any sort of help that allowed him access to their computers or cell phones, Barry could hack into their bank accounts before they ever knew what happened. 

And all they needed was for Laurel to float the idea to her husband.

It was a small gambit, but it was all they had to stall the auction until the EOD was ready.

"She'll tell him anything," Iris continued. "She won't be able to help it. Especially since it's something that would help her friend and benefit Jimmy over his brothers."

Barry looked at her in confusion. 

"I figured out what happened this morning at the meeting place," Iris told him excitedly. 

She'd pieced it together after they listened to audio of Angelo when he returned after the money exchange. 

"Laurel mentioned Jimmy was thinking about new ventures at work. Angelo and Vincent seem to be confused as hell about the dead bodies, while Jimmy was fuming at dinner," Iris reminded him. "Jimmy found out about the hit hours before Angelo and Vincent did."

"I bet if you run those pictures of the gunmen through facial recognition again you'll see they were all Jimmy's guys," she told Barry

Sure enough, when Barry ran the pictures through his computer, all five men were found to pop up in pictures with Jimmy more than any other brother's.

Barry remembered Angelo and Vincent's conversation about Jimmy's recklessness.

Hell, the whole reason Barry and Iris were on this op was because Jimmy killed one of Mason's informants.

"He's making a play against the family," Barry connected where Iris was going. "He's the youngest, probably feels he has to act out to be respected."

Iris nodded, happy he'd caught up. "And he probably sent his guys ahead to the meet site so they could do exactly what we'd planned to do. A quick $3 million dollars of his own would be helpful for whatever moves he wanted to make without his brothers' approval."

"So we have a family of mobsters, a literal ticking bomb, and a figurative one that's wild enough to blow everything up, too," Barry listed warily. "What do we do now?"

"We use the last one to our advantage," Iris told him, a gleam in her eye. "And all we have to do now is wait for the phone to ring."

 

The next morning Barry was up before Iris got back from the gym. 

The sky was still dissipating into a soft pink-orange so Barry decided to have his coffee out on the balcony and watch the sunrise.

He hadn't slept too well the night before.

He and Iris both agreed to still keep their sleeping arrangements separate even though they now had to share a room for their things.

It was technically breaking protocol, but they both knew the last thing they needed was the added pressure of sleeping a few inches away from each other.

So Barry moved to the couch.

But last night his thoughts had been too loud and living room had felt too cold.

Even now he couldn't seem to clear his mind enough to enjoy the quiet.

Memories like pictures slid past him so quickly until they morphed into something he could almost hear and touch with perfect clarity.

Perfect, brown skin against his own.

Warm, soft hands running up and down his arms, the cool metal band on her finger pressing against him, reminding him every day that she was real. 

That what they had was real.

A laugh that was as soothing as honey and a smile that blinded him even years later.

Thoughts of her consumed him until the sun was bright in the sky.

But, then in the harsh light he also remembered tiny fingers filling his hair with colorful wildflowers.

Wisps of curly, brown hair framing a small, mischievous face.

A little girl's laughter coming from the garden asking if old gnomes really did live under potted plants.

Giggling as Iris whispered a grand tale about meeting a grumpy garden gnome once.

Barry leaned his head back, hoping it would somehow dump out the memories that haunted him.

"Hey."

He turned and saw Iris watching him from the doorway.

Her eyes were sharp, always observing, always analyzing and reading.

From the way her shoulders were pulled in a subtle, protective way, Barry knew she'd read him easily.

"What's up?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse from not speaking yet that morning.

"Jimmy left a message on your cell," Iris revealed. "He wants to know if you can meet up tomorrow and discuss a business opportunity.”

Iris's hunch was right. 

Laurel had told Jimmy what Iris said.

"You should call him back," Iris advised. He saw a bit of happiness dance across her eyes and he couldn't blame her.

They were back to having a semblance of a plan instead of fumbling like they'd been doing since she'd discovered the dirty bomb.

Barry nodded and took his cell from her, but before he could head inside Iris put out her fist.

Barry grinned a little before he ducked his head and bumped his fist to hers.

"Nice work."

"You, too."

Iris smiled and walked over to where Barry had been standing to take in the morning view.

She was thanking their good fortune for a new angle that could get them one step closer to finishing; to being free for a while to talk things through just the two of them without the job hovering over them, when her phone pinged with a text message.

She pulled it out to read.

_Iris,_

_I know the last time we talked you said you had some things to figure out, but I was wondering if you've had enough time.  
I'm in town. Please, call. It'd be nice to hear your voice._

_Yours truly,_

_Scott._

Her smile dropped and cold hit her hard. 

She hastily deleted the message and looked out at the expansive view of the city.

Fuck, she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. We're finally about to get into the *meat* of it all! The history and (some) answers lol. I'm excited. Especially for next chapter which is mostly in Barry's point of view.


	4. All You Never Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One horrible bout of the flu, weeks of coursework catchup and 84 years later: an update! I am *SOOO* sorry for the long wait!!
> 
> UnBeta-ed, sorry for any mistakes.

Iris was acting very strangely.

That's what Barry had been thinking about most the last few days; the irony not lost on him that he could somehow register the change in the storm of awkwardness and stilted motions they'd had to endure for almost two months.

It was a wonder, but he'd noticed her odd behavior all the same.

She was acting a little jumpier than usual. The _tiniest_ bit more on edge.

It was in the small things that he'd probably overlook if he didn't know her so well.

And if Barry had to attribute her behavior to anything, it was definitely the pressures of this long, strange op finally catching up to them.

He couldn't wait for it all to be over.

For the mobsters to be out of sight in a faraway prison.

For the bomb to be destroyed. For them to have just a moment alone to breathe.

Barry didn't know if he wanted them to have that moment alone _together_ or separately, but he knew they both needed respite all the same.

Working with Jimmy was opportunistic, but slower-moving than Barry would've liked.

Jimmy _had_ offered Barry a job, but it turned out to be more of a retainer than anything else.

The benefit of which was that Jimmy liked to keep his investments and his plans close to his chest so Barry was now a de facto member of Jimmy’s entourage.

It was boring work; mostly just consulting Jimmy through random, grand ideas he had about ways to boost his business and tighten his ship. 

Barry drudged through the monotony by reading up on the daily briefs from the bomb squad and passing time in the penthouse with Iris.

Iris.

He almost couldn't help every thought circling back to her.

She'd always been the center.

She'd always been the sun around which his world orbited.

Hurt and anger and confusion hadn't changed that fact.

It'd just made everything about his life now just feel so off-kilter these days.

Barry had always been a stickler for rules and order.

He'd been that way since he was a little kid; back when finding order in things was about survival.

The first group home he'd lived in after his mom died was run like a prison.

Showers were timed, food was rationed, and severe punishments were dealt for any number of infractions.

Barry learned very quickly that nothing good ever came from trying to step out of line in any way.

He was the youngest kid there so he kept his head down and did as he was told.

Once Barry moved to his first foster home, the rules eased up just a little, but punishments were just as severe.

Barry's foster parents had no sense of structure or even a semblance of how to take care of a child.

Though, they were quick to dole out harsh punishments for whatever perceived slights Barry committed, so he had to keep himself in check even more. He clung to the rigid discipline he learned in the group home.

And that's how he'd lived from foster home to foster home.

He never caused trouble.

He always did as he was told. 

He excelled in school and took whatever beatings and mistreatment he had to in order to stay where he was.

Not that all of that ever did much good.

By the time Barry was seventeen, he'd lived in over nine different homes.

When he was eighteen, he aged out of the system and was given access to the inheritance his parents had set up for him.

Three days after his birthday, Barry received a letter of interest from a special ops organization that'd taken strong notice in Barry's incredible science skills.

A week later, Barry was stepping into the Basements as Oversight’s newest recruit.

Oversight was the missing piece to the puzzle Barry had spent his childhood trying to solve.

It gave him a place to thrive. 

The advanced technology and the minds behind them were more than Barry could've dreamed of as a kid.

His work gave him a drive and his lab was a gift.

A priceless resource in his quest to find justice for his family after years of immeasurable pain.

In his job, Barry thought he'd found his place.

And then he met Iris West.

Once Barry met Iris, it was as if everything he'd ever learned about rules and structure and survival flew out the window.

All at once his view of the world shifted and turned and when everything finally righted itself again, she was at the center.

Barry had spent almost eight years in a storm of greys and clouds- the only thing helping him trudge through was a single-minded quest for survival long enough to find justice.

Nothing more.

The instinct to keep swimming for fear of going under had been his guiding force. His compass in never-ending chaos.

But, with Iris there was a quiet.

A peace that defied all the logic and all the science he'd clung to his whole life.

In her twinkling eyes there was a salvation he'd given up on years ago.

He'd loved her before he could even try not to. 

And, just for a moment, he was able to tell himself that he’d done something good in his life enough to deserve her loving him back.

He'd wanted to know everything about her in the beginning.

From the moment he met her, he was consumed by her.

Her brain and her laugh and her beautiful, sparkling eyes that somehow didn't seem real.

Barry found himself breaking down every wall he'd ever built around himself for her. 

Only for her.

And he embraced the vulnerability he had no control over when he was with her. 

Timing and planning and waiting lost its meaning.

They'd been dating for less than a year when Barry asked Iris to marry him.

And they were only engaged for six weeks before they ran off and eloped.

The exhilaration of throwing off some of the weight of his past had been more than enough for him.

It'd been the difference between surviving and actually living.

But, Barry could see now that he hadn't been careful with Iris.

He hadn't protected her like he should have.

Most days Barry felt like an idiot for ever thinking he was someone who could.

Barry immediately tried to shake himself out of his musings as he finished assembling breakfast.

It didn't do any good to wallow these days.

He'd done more than enough of that the last nine months and it hadn't gotten him anywhere.

Barry was just finishing up cooking when the silence in the penthouse was broken by the jingling of keys at the front door.

Iris breezed in, one hand holding a protein shake, the other balancing a bag of food that looked big enough to feed a small army.

"Morning," she greeted before holding up the bag. "I got breakfast."

Barry furrowed his brow in confusion. "You texted me asking if I could make omelets."

Iris groaned and tapped her head. "Shit. Right sorry, I forgot."

"You forgot?" Barry repeated. "That wasn't even an hour ago."

Iris shrugged. "I guess I just wasn't paying attention. Morning brain."

Barry knew Iris was always sharp as a tack no matter what time it was.

Her spacing out was just further proof of how odd she'd been acting.

"Well, we can have breakfast for dinner, I guess," she suggested, putting her bag of good in the fridge.

"Sure," Barry said.

He handed her a plate of food after she washed up and got settled and they both tucked in.

Breakfast was slowly moving past being an awkward affair between the two of them and becoming a pleasant enough time with only slightly strained undertones.

Though Iris was usually the only one to talk, she didn't try to force conversation or anything.

She just filled some pockets of silence when she liked.

"I think Jimmy and Laurel want to get drinks tonight," Iris told him after a little while.

Barry immediately felt fatigued.

It seemed like all rich people did around here was eat expensive meals, drink expensive wine and lounge around country clubs until their limbs grew numb.

The other day, Iris mentioned missing high-speed car chases and helicopter dead drops and even Barry was the tiniest bit inclined to agree.

Upper class suburbia was purgatory.

"I told Laurel I was tired of the boring ass country club," Iris said as if reading his thoughts. "So we're going to that new night club downtown."

Barry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna try hard liquor for a change. See if that won't get her talking more."

Barry nodded. “Okay.”

He didn't want to leave interacting with the Morottas all to Iris, but he did think she had the easier job between the two.

Jimmy was the embodiment of almost everything Barry hated.

Barry wasn't as good a field agent as Iris.

He was sure his barely-veiled disgust and annoyance in Jimmy's presence was going to give him away sooner rather than later.

"Any news from Cisco today?" Iris asked.

"Not yet," Barry informed.

"Well, let me know when he does call?" Iris requested as she stood with her empty plate. "I have to ask him something."

She thanked Barry for breakfast and washed her plate before heading to her room.

Barry was just finishing up himself when he saw Iris do something she'd never done before.

She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone from next to him, looking it over as if to make sure it’d been untouched before pocketing it and padding away again.

Yes, something was definitely off with her.

Even after working out, going over the day's audio surveillance, and watching a god-awful reality show on the t.v., the clock inched forward at a snail's pace until it was finally time to meet Jimmy and Laurel downtown.

By then, Barry had already started to feel agitated and on edge.

Iris tried to get him to not look so restless and broody on the car ride over, but to be honest; she and her skin-tight backless dress weren't helping matters either.

The two of them separated at the club when Jimmy texted Barry to meet him in a backroom that overlooked the bar.

Jimmy himself was definitely more connected than his brothers.

It didn't take long shadowing him to see that Jimmy had friends just about everywhere.

And being friends with everyone had its definite perks.

But, it was also easy to see how much Jimmy felt he had to show off and prove his authority.

"Mikey!" Jimmy greeted affectionately when Barry entered.

There were a handful of men and women in the large room as well. None that Barry had seen before.

"Come have a seat," Jimmy gestured to an empty chair.

"What's up?" Barry asked once he was seated.

Jimmy shrugged. "Just like the quiet over the crowd down there for a little."

Jimmy briefly introduced Barry to the people around them. They seemed to all be doing their own things, so it was just Barry and Jimmy engaged in conversation for a long while.

"Do you want to head down and find the girls?" Barry asked when he'd grown far too tired of talking to the man by himself.

"Not just yet. View's amazing from here," Jimmy grinned.

Barry looked down at the floor below.

He could see their wives at the bar, Iris with her head thrown back laughing at something Laurel said.

He saw Jimmy watching them too.

"I finished the mock-up for the vault security you were wondering about," Barry said, interrupting Jimmy's hawkish gaze. "I could create an entire bio-security system for your house, Laurel's gallery and your work office. No one gets in or out without your DNA."

Jimmy only seemed to be half-listening. He watched Iris and Laurel for a bit longer before he dragged his eyes back to Barry's.

"You know, Laurel said Nicole was real shook up about your old job," Jimmy said randomly. "She told me Nicole had been crying over it for a while now."

"My wife worries herself too much," Barry told him nonchalantly. "She always thinks things are worse than they are."

Jimmy nodded with a look Barry couldn't quite make.

"Still, you know I went out of my way to find a job for you cause I knew she was upset," he waved a hand ambiguously. "Wanted to help out. You know?"

Barry frowned a little. "Sure. It was very much appreciated."

He turned his attention back to the bar, but he caught Jimmy still staring in his peripheral which drew him back.

The man was clearly getting at something. Barry raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to get on with it.

"My crew is close. Real close. We'd do anything for each other, no questions asked," Jimmy explained, a tiniest hint of pride seeping in.

Barry nodded slowly.

"The guys we... help each other out from time to time," Jimmy said. "Share the wealth. You know what I mean?"

Barry blinked and straightened 'Michael's' glasses.

"No," he said slowly.

"Your wife is the hottest thing to stroll through my door in a long, long time," Jimmy grinned. 

He then said something so vulgar, Barry almost asked loud if he was being punk'd.

Barry put down his hand and stared at the man, wondering if he was really as disgusting and _bold_ as this.

Jimmy was just the right blend of entitlement and toxic masculinity that turned deadly.

The informant that had been killed a few months ago, Mia, was a low end escort that Mason had recruited to get information from visiting diplomats and other high-level sources.

She was on assignment at a ritzy hotel when she ran into Jimmy, one of her old clients.

They'd had a heated exchange when Jimmy tried to proposition her and she refused.

Witnesses saw Jimmy rushing out of the hotel around 3 a.m. with a few dark spots on his clothing.

Mia's body was found in the hotel's back alley at dawn.

She'd been stabbed and left for dead.

Everyone knew it was Jimmy.

But his family's money and Mia's known profession was enough to make the whole incident disappear. But, not for Mason Bridge or Oversight.

That Jimmy could still be trying to proposition one of his employee's wives with his own wife yards away was almost mind-blowing.

Something deadly walked across Barry's eyes.

He didn't try to hide it and he saw the precise second Jimmy noticed it too because his pose became a little straighter and his smirk quickly devolved into something less smug and self-assured.

He discreetly gulped as the charged silence grew before he nudged Barry's arm and laughed. "Relax, man I'm just joking."

Barry was pleased Jimmy's laugh was nervous and that his eyes grew jumpier the longer Barry didn't respond.

After a long beat Barry nodded once slowly and smiled good-naturedly. "Of course! Yeah, I know."

After that, Jimmy was markedly less enthusiastic about the quiet and suggested they finally go back downstairs.

They walked back down to the bar and found Laurel and Iris. 

The former was swaying and giggling quite a bit, holding what was definitely not her first drink of the night.

Barry didn't tell Iris what Jimmy said, but she did pick up on some strain.

In fact the rest of the night was one long, tension-filled affair.

Between Laurel chugging Tequila like it was water, Jimmy growing steadily annoyed at her antics, and Barry brooding over whatever he was brooding about.

And Iris was just trying to get through playing cool without losing her cool every time she caught sight of the muscle-defining, eye-popping blue shirt Barry had on.

Fortunately for all, the night was eventually cut short by Jimmy when Laurel's sullen drunkenness started to make a scene.

She'd just started loudly complaining about broken promises and liars after a Beyoncé song came on when Jimmy decided to call it a night.

After that, Jimmy went out of his way to be extra chummy with Barry. Being more polite to him than anyone else he interacted with.

Though, considering how much of an asshole Jimmy was, that wasn't saying much.

Barry took it all in stride.

He worked on mock-ups of whatever nonsensical ideas Jimmy came up with and tagged along for whatever "errands" Jimmy and his brothers had to take care of.

Barry was more than grateful when the end of the week came by. 

He strolled out of a quaint bakery whistling as he stuffed his receipt in his pocket.

He couldn't believe how expensive a fresh brownie was in that part of town, but he'd been able to charm the worker in the shop enough for her to add two more brownies free of charge which was nice.

He hadn't been trying to get free treats, he just wanted to make sure the woman remembered him well, but the brownies were a bonus he supposed.

Barry waited until he was down the block to throw away the unopened baked treats.

He'd never really cared for brownies anyway.

Those were more Iris's thing.

He'd just needed the timestamp in his pocket.

He strolled unhurried to his car and headed in the direction of downtown's most popular strip club, anticipating a relief from a week of pent up emotions.

 

By the time Barry crept back into the safehouse, he hoped Iris was already asleep so he wouldn't have to field any questions.

He'd seen her missed calls while he was downtown, but his hands hadn't exactly been free at the time.

He opened the front door and was greeted by all the lights still on and Iris standing in the middle of the foyer.

The reflexive, warm nostalgia of Iris waiting up for him was interrupted by the look of worry and frustration on her face.

"Where've you been?" She asked. "I tried calling you a couple of times, but your phone was off."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry I was just at the gym," Barry said carefully. "The pool. I left my cell in the lockers."

Iris shifted her weight and studied him in that intense way of hers.

"Laurel Morotta called a while ago," she informed him, folding her arms across her chest. "Apparently Jimmy got mugged outside his office. He's banged up pretty bad; a cracked rib, bloody face. They're waiting on X-rays to see if his hand is broken," Iris peered up at him. "He might even have a concussion."

"Sounds painful," Barry supplied with bored sympathy. 

He tried to move further into the apartment, but Iris held up a hand and he immediately stopped.

"Did that gym pool actually have water in it?" She asked him.

Barry's brows furrowed in confusion.

Iris nodded to his shoulder and Barry twisted his neck to find a tiny bit of dried blood there.

Her eyes then dropped to his shoes which were scuffed.

As if he'd been kicking something.

Barry didn't bother to restructure his lie.

"Barry, why would you-"

"-That guy's a piece of shit, Iris, and if I didn't hit him soon I probably would've blown our cover," Barry told her. "Don't worry. He had no idea it was me. I was careful, I have an alibi. And he wasn't even at his office. He was at a strip club."

"That's not the point, Barry!" Iris chided. "We're neck-deep in a slimy business. You can't go around jumping every piece of shit who says gross stuff about me! We'd never get anything else done."

Barry nodded in appeasement, but Iris caught his faint smile when he ducked his head in fake contrition. As if she was being naïve.

"How did you know?" Barry wondered.

Iris rolled her eyes and relaxed her stance. "I'm sure whatever he said to you last week that sent you all into a huff was pretty tame compared to what he's been breathing in my ear when he thinks no one's around," she said in an extremely bored tone.

Barry frowned. "What did he say to you?" He demanded.

She sighed and turned towards her bedroom. "Good night, Barry. Please put everything you're wearing in the trash. We don't need this coming back to us."

Barry agreed and bid her a good night, albeit a little distractedly as he weighed what Iris said.

Then he spent his entire shower regretting letting Jimmy off so easily.

After he'd washed off any incriminating evidence and changed for bed, Barry stepped out the steamy bathroom into the living room and reluctantly made his way to his make-shift bed on the couch.

He hated it.

Not the couch itself. It was more comfortable than a lot of places he'd had to sleep on mission.

He hated sleeping alone.

He hated it more than anything.

Though, he couldn't really call what he'd been doing the last few months "sleeping."

When he was still in the guest room he just stayed awake in bed, listening for any sign of disturbance.

Mostly from Iris's room.

Whenever he heard her open her bedroom door, he was out of bed, heart pounding as he listened carefully for the sound of a heavy bag, or a rolling suitcase or the front door opening.

Usually it was just her getting a glass of water or going to the bathroom.

One night she stayed in the living room for hours, most likely passing away time during a bout of insomnia.

But, Barry didn't move from his spot by his door once.

And his heart rate only returned to normal when he heard her tiptoe back into her room.

Now that he was on the couch, Iris made it a point not to come outside during the night, but Barry still heard her shuffling around in her room a lot.

He really couldn't wait for this assignment to be finished.

As far as he knew, this was his final field mission since he'd finished all of Iris's other ones.

He may have impressed Director West this last year, but Barry knew he didn't belong away from Oversight.

This just wasn't for him.

He'd always been in awe of Iris's talent and being on this side of operations as much as he has, he was even more in awe of what she did.

His anger at her hadn't subsided, but Barry couldn't ignore how quickly it branched to other feelings alongside it.

The strongest of which was the fear that she wouldn't stay once they were done here.

Most nights the fear that Iris would leave again felt heavier than his anger at her leaving in the first place. And it was an impossible, exhausting rope for Barry to walk.

A vibrating noise filled the room and Barry rushed over to his cell phone.

The number on his screen was unlisted, but Barry knew it well.

Iron Heights Prison.

"Dad," Barry rubbed his tired eyes.

A coincidence his father would call after a week of such pitiful introspection.

As the phone continued to ring Barry weighed if he should answer or not.

He didn't want to get into a whole long discussion with his father tonight.

Their relationship was... complicated for lack of a better word.

Barry, with his decade worth of righteous anger over the injustices they'd faced and Henry Allen with his calm acceptance over his own false imprisonment made for a rickety balance at best.

Barry hit 'answer'.

He might as well get it over with.

"Hey, dad," he greeted with a boost of forced pleasantry.

"Son!" How are you? How is everything?" Henry asked affectionately.

Barry hated how cheerful his father always sounded.

As if everything was normal.

As if he wasn't calling from a maximum security prison.

As if his life hasn't been burned to the ground. 

"Everything's fine, dad," Barry told him as he took a seat on the couch.

"How's work going?" Henry inquired. "Are you getting enough rest?"

Henry didn't know exactly what Barry did for a living.

Barry's official line was that he was a forensic scientist which helped explain his hectic work hours and his inability to talk about cases in detail, but he never knew if his dad totally bought it.

Henry had been in jail long enough to pick up on conversation change and polished evasion when someone didn't want you to know too much about their business.

"Work's... a bit stressful these days," Barry sighed.

Since he'd been locked up, Barry never let his dad know when he was struggling or feeling low or any sort of negative news about his life really, but the last year he'd let a few things drop.

"You've got to give yourself a break, son," Henry reminded him gently. "I know the busy work is a good distraction, but the quiet can also help."

Barry closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Iris is back."

"Iris?!" Henry exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah she got back a few weeks ago," Barry rubbed the back of his neck.

Henry laughed with delight. In a way Barry hadn't heard in a _long_ time. "Oh that's wonderful news! Does that mean you two...?"

"We're...working on it," Barry said.

He didn't have the heart to tell Henry that there wasn't much progress being done on that front.

In seven years, Iris had been more of a daughter to Henry than Barry had been a son for most of his life.

Henry loved her dearly.

He eagerly pelted Barry with questions about her well-being and what she was doing.

"You should call her tomorrow," Barry told him when he could finally slip a word in. "She'll be happy to hear from you."

Henry agreed and chuckled again. "I knew it would all work out, Slugger. I told you, a love like you two kids have is the rarest of all. Nothing's ever going to break that."

Barry swallowed again as his stomach twisted in knots.

He remembered to give a sound of agreement before the silence gave him away.

"Listen, dad, I have an early morning so I should head to bed," Barry said after another minute, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Of course," Henry said at once. "I'll talk to you soon. I love you."

Barry felt some of the tension dissipate. "I love you too, dad," he said sincerely. 

After he hung up, Barry spent a long while staring at his cell phone trying to prevent that familiar rush of rage from taking hold.

He didn't like talking to his father.

It only ever stirred up the very emotions Barry was conscious to push away.

Barry was angry. 

He'd been angry for years over what happened to his dad and his mom all those years ago.

He was angry that no one would listen to him when he tried to tell them what really happened the night his mother was killed.

He was angry that with all the resources he had at his fingertips now, he still hadn't found his mother's true killer.

He was good at keeping that anger down. At taking all the rage and injustice and translating it into his work.

Barry was angry enough for the two of them in a way his father wasn't.

He knew that his father has had to cling to his innocence over bitterness in order to survive prison this long, but growing up it'd frustrated Barry that his father _wasn't_ angry.

That he seemed to accept his fate. And it'd put an unavoidable strain on the pair whenever Henry advised Barry to do the same for his own sake.

Things had gotten better between the two of them in recent years. He grew to see why his father would choose acceptance over rage. 

Barry never accepted what happened to his parents. He never would. But, he understood his father's perspective.

Of course, Iris was mostly responsible for that.

Still, Barry and Henry weren't as close as they'd once been before Nora died. They weren't as closed as they both would've liked to be.

Francine would never go for it, but between himself and Iris and Cisco, Barry knew they could've sprung Henry out of prison years ago. 

But, Barry's entire quest wasn't just about securing Henry's freedom.

It was about clearing his name.

It was about reparations and apologies from the people who helped put him in jail.

It was about making sure the real man responsible for killing Barry’s mother was brought to justice.

Unbidden, a flash of a bloody knife and a silhouette in a yellow suit flashed across his mind.

Barry groaned and drove them away.

His phone lit up again. It was a text.

**'Make sure you ice your hand before bed. Don't want it swollen by morning.'**

He looked down at his hands. He'd forgotten about his knuckles.

The angry red and chaffed skin called out for help, but Barry felt the exhaustion of the day finally win.

He only had enough energy to slip under the light covers before sleep overtook him.

 

The next day, Iris suggested they go see Jimmy with well-wishes, but Jimmy refused visitors at the hospital. Probably not wanting anyone to see how badly he'd been beat up.

Barry gladly agreed to the ban.

Instead, he spent the day with Cisco out of Iris's path, listening contently as his friend ranted about how slowly the bomb deconstruction was going and all the new communication protocols Waller was making him install.

It wasn't long before Cisco brought the conversation to Barry and Iris.

"You guys have to talk," Cisco had told him. "Like _really_ talk."

Barry scoffed, growing tired of having the same conversation over and over again. "About what?"

"Everything!" Cisco said exasperated. "Morocco, her going to Belgium, Patty."

At that Barry's indignation waned and his eyes dropped. "What could I ever even say?"

"The truth," Cisco said immediately. "She deserves that much."

"Listen, Barry, Iris didn't leave because she wanted to hurt you," Cisco told Barry for the hundredth time. "She left because she was hurting. She loves you, man."

"How long did you wish she'd come back? How hard did you pray that she'd come home? And now that she's here you're gonna what? Spend every day hating her until she leaves again?" Cisco questioned.

"I don't hate her," Barry said immediately, a fierce heat in his voice.

Cisco put up a hand of surrender. 

"You love her," he said after a beat.

Barry looked down.

"Just tell her that,” Cisco urged. “Before it's too late.” 

 

When Barry walked into the living room late that afternoon, he caught sight of Iris walking back and forth on the balcony outside, grinning from ear to ear on the phone as she twirled a half-eaten apple in her hand.

No doubt she was talking to Henry.

Barry watched her and felt a familiar twist in his gut as a memory flash unbidden.

_"I'm begging you. I'm_ begging _you; please eat something, Iris," Barry urged tearfully. He tried to give her a bright red apple, but Iris didn't budge. He pressed his head against her temple. "Please."_

_Iris just stared ahead, not moving, barely blinking._

Barry ran a hand through his hair.

He'd meant what he said to Cisco.

These days Iris looked better than he could've ever hoped.

Iris caught him through the glass and held up a hand in greeting which Barry returned.

'Your dad' she mouthed holding the phone towards him.

Barry shook his head and gestured to the comms in his hands.

She shot him the same disapproving look from whenever he avoided his father, but it was softened by the understanding in her eyes.

Barry tried to work on finding the new frequency for the comms Cisco had written down, but Iris's laughter kept drawing him to the balcony.

Eventually he abandoned the task and wandered around the penthouse, eventually finding his way into the bathroom.

He moved around doing nothing at all, just trying to entertain himself.

It was only when he reached for the faucet that he noticed his injured knuckles.

"You didn't ice your hand last night did you?" Iris asked from behind him.

She stood in the open doorway.

"I fell asleep," Barry said.

Iris tsked. "Look how swollen and red it is now."

She left the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit and holding out rubbing alcohol and some gauze. "Here put this on."

Barry took them from her and tried to unscrew the bottle with his less-inflamed hand before Iris took pity on him and grabbed the bottle and a cotton ball herself.

"You have some small cuts," she explained as she cleaned his hand gently. "Are you sure you punched a guy's face and not a brick wall."

Barry was grateful his body's shivering response to her touching him was perfectly in sync with her question which he was able to disguise as a small chuckle.

Iris examined his swollen, bruised hands and couldn't believe the pain hadn't forced him to remedy it on his own.

Barry's actual tolerance for pain always unnerved her a little.

When she'd first met him as a recruit he was all stutters and shy glances and awkward fumbling and Iris thought she had his number.

But, she'll never forget when their class had a weapons session and after an unfortunate misstep by another recruit, Barry somehow found himself with a jagged knife sticking straight out of his shoulder.

Everyone else had reacted in shock and quick action to help, but Barry didn't seem to even register what'd happened.

He'd just blinked at the protruding handle, pulled it out slowly without wincing once and applied enough pressure on the gushing cut so that it wouldn't get in the way while he tried the routine again.

The cut had been so deep, he'd needed stitches, but Barry never let out one hint of pain.

Once they'd started dating, Iris was comfortable enough to ask him about not reacting _at all_ when he's been stabbed, and how he barely winced whenever he took a hard beating, and about the time he literally didn't say a word when he’d gotten a severe chemical burn once when he was fiddling around in the labs.

He'd looked confused when she asked; as if he'd never actually thought about it.

Then he shrugged. "I guess I've already lived through the most painful experience of my life," he'd pondered slowly. "Everything else just seems...insignificant to that."

He hadn't said that in a self-pitying or depressed kind of way, just as an observation.

But, Iris had felt a fierce wave of protectiveness wash over her then.

Her small hands now were quick and efficient, cleaning out the cuts he'd ignored and applying soothing salve to the irritated skin. 

Her touch was as gentle and soft as ever and Barry was having a very hard time stopping his hands from sliding over hers and pulling her to him.

"Honey, just stand still. Why are you moving around so much?" Iris asked, exasperated when she tried to wrap his hand in gauze.

At that Barry finally stopped squirming.

Iris didn't look up from her work.

She hadn't realized what she'd called him.

Barry hoped she didn't hear his heart pounding right by her ear.

"Sorry," Barry whispered.

When it looked like she was finally done, Barry tried to speed them along before he did something foolish.

But, his treacherous limbs only succeeded in knocking the open bottle of rubbing alcohol off the counter and all over his shirt.

"Barry!" Iris exclaimed. "What's going on with you?"

"Sorry!" Barry said again. "Sorry, I had a cramp."

He grabbed a towel and quickly wiped away the small liquid that'd landed on the floor while Iris cleaned up the empty bottle and used cotton balls.

After a pause she looked at him like he had two heads.

Barry frowned in confusion before she gestured to his dripping wet shirt. 

"Oh! Right," Barry realized. "I should probably change out of this."

He started to pull off his shirt then thought better of it.

Barry shifted his feet and looked down.

Iris stifled the hurt at the quick realization that Barry was waiting for her to leave the room before he took off his shirt.

"I'm late for tennis with Laurel and Shelby. I'll see you later," she hurried out the door before he saw it in her eyes.

Barry waited until he heard the front door close before he peeled off the soiled garment.

As he grabbed a clean shirt from the bedroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

The silver of his real wedding band glistened in the setting sunlight.

Barry fingered the chain holding the ring around his neck.

The one he kept tucked under his shirts, out of sight.

He sighed and put on the new shirt, adjusting the collar so that the chain was completely hidden.

In the kitchen he saw Iris had laid out a tray with pain killers, an ice pack and some lunch for him.

Yes, Barry thought. He was an idiot.

 

Iris had just pulled up to Shelby's and was waiting for the sisters to come out when her phone rang. 

Iris inhaled when she read the familiar number. She answered.

"I told you I couldn't talk," she said, skipping pleasantries.

"I know, but I need to see you, Iris," Scott replied.

"I can't do this, Scott," Iris told him, putting a hand over her eyes. "Barry, he's-"

"Heyyy girlie!" 

Shelby bounded down her front steps, waving her racket at Iris as Laurel trailed behind her.

"I have to go," Iris said immediately sitting up.

"Iris, just listen-"

"-No, Scott. You need to respect me decision, okay?"

"Iris-"

"Don't call me again," Iris said firmly. She hung up the phone just as the women entered her car and exchanged greetings.

"You didn't need to get off the phone on our account," Laurel said.

"No, don't worry about it," Iris assured, starting the car. "It was no one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some input about the pacing of the story would be really appreciated. Slow burn is really the exact opposite of what I enjoy in fics, so I don't know if I'm just spinning wheels or if I'm doing this justice. 
> 
> chapter 5 is a little more than 1/3 done, but I don't want to make promises about the next update since my spring break is just about finished. But I'm trying to write as much as I can before classes start back up. Thanks for the patience! ❤


	5. Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, Please forgiving any mistakes.

Iris didn't let a little rain slow her down as she entered the supermarket close to the safehouse.

She had a few hours to kill before she and Barry had to be at their meeting with Mason and she was making the most of it.

Despite the crappy weather, it'd already been a productive day. 

She'd gone to see Laurel and Jimmy in the morning (finally seeing firsthand the hell Barry had unleashed on Jimmy). 

Armed with pans of food and flowers, she'd used the momentary distraction of gifts to swipe Laurel's master key to the art gallery.

Iris and Barry wanted to use Laurel's absence from taking care of Jimmy to do some thorough sweeping of the hidden tunnels under the gallery. 

They were almost certain the bomb squad wouldn't be able to decrypt the dirty bomb in time for the blind auction so they were game planning for the worst case scenario of having to jack a live explosive in the middle of an upscale art sale.

But, those horrible odds and the high probability of Barry just blowing the entire operation by trying to kill Jimmy aside, Iris was brimming with optimism of successfully finishing and going home sooner rather than later.

She'd even had to temper her enthusiasm halfway through mentally redesigning some rooms in their house.

It was only when she'd gotten to some changes she wanted to make in their bedroom that Iris stopped to wonder if she was being presumptuous.

She'd been gone for the better part of a year and the man she shared a bed with could barely seem to stand the sight of her. 

She wasn't a fool and she wasn't selfish enough to think they'd walk back into the house with Barry carrying her over the threshold, but she _was_ hopeful. 

Because Iris didn't want to imagine a world in which they couldn't work things out.

So she held off on picking new drapes just for now.

Instead, she turned her sights on mending the other relationship she'd neglected. 

A bottle of spiced nuts caught her attention as she strolled down the snack aisle.

It was a brand she knew Henry enjoyed so she quickly dropped a few in her cart. 

Iris had thought maybe she'd take a trip to Central City on her way home after the mission was done.

She missed Henry and knew she hadn't been the best daughter-in-law the last few months.

And if there was one thing Iris West-Allen prided herself on, it was being a good daughter-in-law to Henry.

Since she'd first met him, Henry had been nothing but a bright spot in her life.

A few weeks before he asked her to marry him, Barry had invited her to come to his hometown and meet his father.

She'd been the first girl he'd ever brought to see his dad.

Hell, she'd been the first girl to even know the full story about his dad.

Though she'd implicitly believed Barry about what he _thought_ he saw the night his mom was killed and about though she agreed there were certainly questionable routes the prosecution took against Henry, Iris quietly kept her judgment about what truly happened that night totally blank. 

The first time Barry led her into the prison, Iris had expected to meet a hardened man.

One weighed down by the guilt of what he'd done, or by the anger at his false imprisonment.

What she hadn't been excepting when she went to Iron Heights was the kind-eyed, genial man who wore a bright smile when he saw them and who affectionately called Barry "slugger."

Henry had been attentive and loving to Barry and he'd been warm and inviting to Iris their whole visit.

Iris had been around cryptic, somewhat closed-off adults her entire life.

Henry, for all his bleak surroundings and horrific trauma, was open in a way Iris had never seen before.

And she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Oddly enough, he reminded her most of her younger brother, Wally, not Barry, the longer they talked.

Even though he'd been raised in the same environment as her, Wally always seemed destined for something else.

No matter how often she saw him roam the halls of Oversight, or eagerly ask logistics to their mom about cases she let him know about, Iris never could make him fit into the puzzle of their world.

Sweet, brilliant Wally who wanted to be a doctor just like Henry had been before he was convicted. 

Wally, whose smile could legitimately brighten _any_ windowless building.

That's who Iris thought of as Henry talked.

There was an innocence to the both of them.

Iris wanted to believe that for all her training and instincts, she was a good judge of character. 

She wanted to believe it wasn't just the hope that the man who shared half his DNA with her kind and sweet boyfriend couldn't possibly have committed of such a horrendous crime. 

By the time she and Barry walked out of Iron Heights, Iris wanted to believe that Henry Allen was truly an innocent man.

And she didn't stop wanting to believe, especially not after she'd so happily agreed to spend the rest of her life with Barry. 

So, she went back to Central City and she sat and talked some more with Henry.

And she kept going back, again and again and again. Each time staying longer and longer. Learning more and more about him until she was able to say with absolute certainty that the man she'd grown close to wasn't capable of doing the things everyone said he did.

And that's how Iris continued. 

Once a month-every month that she wasn't away on an op-she spent two days in Central City visiting Henry Allen. 

She was always the first one in line the days of her visitation and she lingered the longest when it was time to go.

Barry never went with her except on holidays and special occasions or when Iris guilted him for going so long in-between visits.

And Iris went from trying to see Henry as a good man for Barry's sake to seeing the good in Henry all on her own.

Naturally, Francine had thrown a fit once she'd found out where Iris was spending her two monthly vacation days, but Iris never stopped.

Once she and Barry ran off and got married, Henry became her family too.

Which meant her eight month absence had affected him as well.

Iris knew he'd definitely shouldered unnecessary blame about her leaving.

He'd said as much the other day when he'd called.

In Belgium when she'd finally started to fall into a healthy headspace, she'd realized how disconcerting her last visit with Henry must have been for him.

He was a natural worrier and he cared and there was no doubt that he had gone over their visit repeatedly after she basically fell off the face of the earth immediately afterwards.

She'd been restless then.

And lost.

She'd driven straight from work all the way to Central City, bypassing her monthly plane ride in exchange for hours of uninterrupted isolation in her car.

_"I-I've made a real mess of things," Iris finally let slip in a wobbly voice._

_She'd tried to keep it together for most of her visit._

_She'd been success for the most part, using the first hour to catch up with her father-in-law._

_She hadn't wanted to freak Henry out more than she already had; showing up out of the blue, sporting red-rimmed eyes and weight loss she couldn’t hide under one of Barry's sweaters._

_Henry had been gracious enough, allowing her façade to continue until he couldn't ignore his worry._

_"What is this, Iris?" Henry asked, concern shrouding his features. "What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing," she lied, shaking her head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm...just a little stressed."_

_"Work stuff, you know?" Iris tried to cover. "I thought I'd take a few days off to come see you."_

_Henry didn't look convinced._

_Iris swallowed a bitter chuckle at the thought of how much Henry and Barry looked alike when they were looking at her with open apprehension._

_"Does Barry know you're here?" Henry asked slowly._

_Iris weighed telling the truth, but decided against it._

_She nodded silently._

_"Did you get that medical journal I sent?" She suddenly asked, changing the subject. "The one about Marfan Syndrome?"_

_"I did," Henry said after a beat, once again granting her request. "Thank you very much."_

_Iris flashed a tiny smile and blinked away the stinging in her eyes. "I'd remembered you talking about a few of the clinical trials from your old hospital. Thought you might want to read up on the progress. I already ordered two more on osteogenesis imperfecta and myto-mysta osfi-"_

_"Myositis ossificans," Henry supplied, finally smiling._

_"Yeah that one," Iris pointed. "The reviews made it sound really riveting."_

_In spite of his worry, Henry laughed at her sarcasm._

_"It _is_ riveting," he argued. "The neonatal breakthroughs in the last five years alone have been revolutionary! Everyone should make it a point to-"_

_He trailed off when Iris pretended to nod off._

_He shook his head good naturedly._

_"Well, that's nothing new," he told her. "Did you know Barry's mom used to read him my hospital notes to get him to fall asleep? I think he was six when he finally realized I was a doctor and not an author of bedtime stories."_

_Iris surprised herself by giggling._

_It was a small giggle, but it was the first time she'd laughed at all in almost two months._

_She tsked at Henry. "No respect."_

_"Karma came around though," she assured. "If Barry mentions anything at all about any sort of fingerprinting chemical or super-focused microscopes my brain immediately shuts down."_

_"He's always been so passionate about his science kits," Henry said wistfully. "I'd give anything to see him in his lab. Probably like a kid in a candy shop, huh?"_

_Iris's tiny smile dropped. Henry never really brought up the fact that he's missed so much of his son's life on the outside._

_Whenever he did, it was in passing but it always cut Iris to her core._

_And the tiny bit of levity she'd found in Henry's presence dissipated, leaving her feeling hollow once more._

_It wasn't long after that that Iris abruptly stood, suddenly needing to be outside the prison's walls, away from all the scrutinizing eyes of strangers._

_Henry had caught Iris's face fall at the mention of Barry and a chill ran through Henry as he wondered what could've happened between his son and his wife._

_"I wanted to try to fix things," she'd mumbled nonsensically when she accidently toppled her chair in her haste._

_Henry grew confused and almost put a comforting hand on her shoulder before her remembered the rules._

_"You'll be back on the 3rd," Henry quickly asked before she left when his attempts at getting her to stay failed._

_For some reason, for the first time in seven years, he needed a verbal confirmation that she'd be right here next month._

_Safe. And healthy._

_But, Iris didn't give a confirmation. She gave a tiny, pitiful smile of reassurance. "I... I'll see you soon, okay?"_

_He tried to say something else, but Iris pretended not to hear and waved over the guard._

That had been the last time she talked to him.

Henry had been the only person she hadn't reached out to in Brussels. Not even once.

And he was the last person to deserve that type of treatment.

As far as Henry knew, Iris was a photojournalist whose projects sent her all over the world for days or weeks at a time.

Technically Iris _was_ a photojournalist.

She regularly freelanced for multiple media publications, including the renowned Global Citizen in order to keep her domestic cover up to date.

He'd sounded nothing but elated on the phone, happy she'd finally returned from 'assignment'. She’d eventually deduced that Barry told Henry she'd requested a longer stay because the two of them were having problems.

Iris knew she had a lot of making up to do.

She eventually made it out of the store, cart filled to the brim with things for her trip to Central City and for Henry. 

She stopped at the post office to ship all the supplies home before she picked up Barry and headed to headquarters. 

Despite being greeted by the usual noise and chaos in The Hub, Iris and Barry could instantly tell something was a little off as they walked through the first floor of Oversight.

There was a charge of _something_ that made them stand the tiniest bit on alert.

They didn't speak as they walked to Mason's office, keeping their ears open to catch whatever hushed chatter they could. 

All they were able to make out was that something had happened in the Mediterranean.

Mason's office looked like a tornado had breezed through. 

Papers and folders were spread out everywhere. There were three different computer monitors and two tablets on his desk alone.

Mason popped his head out from inside his filing cabinet at the sound of the door. 

"Allen and West-Allen what are you two doing here?" he inquired distractedly.

He didn't wait for a response before returning to his digging.

"We have report," Barry reminded him, holding up a hard drive Mason couldn't see.

"Not today you don't," Mason said abruptly. "Something's come up; just leave the flash drive in my mailbox on your way out."

He gave a sound of triumph and pulled out whatever folder he’d been searching for.

Mason jogged to his computer and rapidly started typing, referring back to the folder intermittently.

They knew interrupting would only get their heads bitten off so they waited.

Mason eventually stood and turned towards the door. He looked surprised to still see them.

Iris raised an eyebrow in question.

"No active personnel needed, Allen," he told her. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, if it's big enough to get the entire building talking we can help," Barry said.

Mason rolled his eyes a little. "It's _not_ big and the entire building isn't talking."

Iris had mastered the art of reading Mason when he was trying to hide something.

Mason had been a fixture in Iris's life since before she could walk. He was her mentor, her supporter, and her friend.

And she'd mastered the art of getting him to crack.

Well, not mastered, but she was very good at getting him to crack.

She opened her mouth to argue their right to know, but the withering look Mason shot her immediately shut her up.

Okay, _Sometimes_ she could get him to crack.

"Look, just go back to the safehouse, leave the report, and focus on finishing the mission you're both already on, alright?" Mason said as he practically shoved them out of his office.

He bid them a rushed goodbye and slammed the door.

Iris shrugged. "Well, guess our afternoon cleared up."

Barry fought hard not to look so offended at his schedule being thrown off.

Oversight was wrought with tension everyone was pretending not to feel and none of their colleagues were giving up any information about the news, so Barry and Iris took Mason's advice and went back to the safehouse.

Iris opted for a relaxing shower while Barry went off to work on some sketches for new tech he wanted to run by Cisco.

By the time she was done, the rain had given way to thick afternoon humidity.

Iris tied up half her hair and slipped into a breezy skirt and a form-fitting tank top before she found Barry in the living room, hunched over in deep concentration.

She took a peek at his blueprints as she passed. "What's that?"

"Microscopic defibrillator," he said around the pen in his mouth.

Iris's brows scrunched. "But, that kind of looks like a gun."

Barry nodded and displayed the page he'd been examining. "The defibrillator would be in the bullets. Or actually the defibrillator _would_ be the bullet. Someone would theoretically be able to shoot this at someone experiencing cardiac distress and the defibrillator would begin to work on impact."

Iris’s frown deepened. "Why would anyone need to be shot with a defibrillator?"

Barry shrugged. "Agents go into distress all the time in the field. Our med tech is advanced, but this would reduce the need for equipment that's not always a priority to grab when agents are on the move."

Iris understood the idea, she just didn't think anyone would ever be desperate enough to shoot themselves or shoot someone else. 

"It seems a bit excessive," she opined gently. "And a tad unsafe."

"Didn't you stab yourself in the chest with pure adrenaline after falling in the ocean and going into shock a few Christmases ago?" Barry asked.

Iris huffed. "I was _pushed_ in the ocean by a literal pirate. I didn't 'fall in'," she said straightening back up. "But... touché."

"Anyway device wouldn't have anywhere near the force of an actual gun, just enough to project a half inch device a few feet..." he trailed off, looking up at her for the first time.

He did a bit of a double take before his eyes shot back down to his work. 

"It'll make more sense when it's done," he mumbled.

Iris hummed in agreement and decided to leave him to it, still not convinced herself.

She went about closing all the windows and the French doors leading to the balcony so she could turn on the ac.

The humidity was becoming stifling.

Once it was running, she went back into the living room to turn on the scented oil lamp.

Iris turned around to find Barry watching her intently.

"Sorry, do you mind?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head.

She nodded and went to the kitchen in search of some things to put together for lunch.

She chuckled a little to herself as she gathered supplies, realizing that, even though she always teased Barry about his restlessness, she needed to keep her hands busy just as much as he did during moments of quiet.

Iris caught him walking slowly towards her out of the corner of her eye.

"I was gonna try to make some lunch if you're hungry," Iris told him.

Barry shook his head.

He didn't say anything further, just continued towards her.

But, the look on his face made Iris's heart suddenly speed up.

She immediately knew why he'd come, but she couldn't seem to make her limbs work.

He finally stopped right in front of her, eyes raking from her hair all the way down her body and back up before resting on her lips.

Iris couldn't say for sure if he was silent or if her pounding heart was drowning out his voice.

When she let out an involuntary sigh, his eyes snapped to hers.

And it seemed to take an eternity for Barry to carefully slide the spoon she was holding out of her hands. 

Then, before she could blink, he was on her.

He pressed her body into his and kissed her as if she held the breath of life between her lips.

One careful arm snaked around her waist tightly and the other found the back of her hair, pressing every part of her to him so that there was no space between them.

Iris's shock melted away quickly enough and she stood on her tiptoes, pulling Barry down to her to get as much contact as possible.

Barry's already short breath hitched when Iris ran a hand through the back of his hair.

The feel of her against him was so devastatingly familiar, Barry was immediately intoxicated.

When he couldn't wait any longer, Barry untangled from her hair long enough to swipe everything out of his way as he lifted her onto the counter.

Iris hissed at the cold contact of marble on her skin, but then Barry was immediately crowding her; his heat invading her space and his lips finding hers again.

He easily pried her mouth open with his tongue. 

There was no space for her to draw a breath that he didn't share.

No rapid beat of her heart that didn't press her skin further into his.

It seemed like his hands were everywhere all at once and she clutched his back to find her center.

For a long while, the only sound in the open space was harsh breathing that crashed and dropped into low groans and desperate moans they were too preoccupied to swallow.

Their only thoughts were of the other. 

Of claiming what'd been out of reach for far too long.

They'd always been a very intimate couple. In spite of everything, eight months apart had only exasperated how much they desired each other.

And they were each consumed by the taste of the other.

So much so that they didn't register Iris's phone ringing for over five minutes before the sound finally broke through.

Its shrill ring ripped through the air and startled both of them, but not enough for them to separate.

When the ringing didn't stop, Barry grew annoyed.

"Just ignore it," he said, barely removing his lips from hers.

But, Iris had already silenced the call.

She made quick work of unbuckling Barry's pants before sliding her hands up under his shirt.

He groaned in painful pleasure when Iris sank her teeth into his bottom lip.

Barry had slowly run his palms up her legs, bunching her skirt at her waist when his own phone started ringing.

Iris leaned away.

"Shit," she said in frustration, breathing heavily. "Answer it."

Barry ignored her and tried to chase her lips again, but she turned her head and gestured, exasperated, to his pocket.

He then turned his attention to her neck, placing open-mouth kisses on her smooth skin before sucking hard on a spot that made her groan and buck against him.

Unfortunately the ringing didn't stop and Iris eventually demanded he answer the call.

" _Damn it,_ " Barry muttered fiercely.

He yanked his cell out and barked into the phone. "What!?"

Iris dropped her head carefully on his shoulder and tried hard to regulate her breathing.

Her mind was swimming and for the life of her, she couldn't think straight

"How soon can you have it ready?" Barry asked the caller, his voice only softening a little.

He sighed. "Fine. We're on our way."

Barry hung up and looked down at Iris.

His pupils were completely blown and his lips were swollen.

Neither of them spoke as he took in Iris's misty eyes, tangled hair and ruined lipstick.

Iris eventually tried to duck her head away from his piercing gaze, but he caught her chin firmly in his hand and brought her back up to receive a kiss so deep and bruising, she thought she might actually pass out.

"We have to go," Barry croaked out when he _finally_ pulled back.

Iris bit her lip unsure of what her own legs would do if she tried to stand on them.

Barry used a shaky thumb to pull her lip from between her teeth.

He kissed her one last time, swiping his tongue across her lips as he, at last, created distance between them.

He graciously helped Iris off the counter and made quick work of straightening up both their appearances.

"Where are we going?" Iris asked. 

She swallowed to wet her dry throat.

"Cisco called," Barry said as he led them to the door, clumsily grabbing the car keys on the way. "He thinks they finally solved it."

 

Cisco was waiting for them at the door, practically vibrating with excitement as he explained the team had successfully completed enough virtual simulations to try a live run-through on a bomb replica.

"Are you sure?" Iris asked as they hustled to the Basements. "Shouldn't we be doing this in a more secure location?"

"Well, the wires in the demo aren't rigged up to an actual explosive. If we don't get it, the worst that'll happen is the balloon we hooked it to will pop and spray y'all with birthday confetti."

Iris shot him a pointed look.

"What?" Cisco defended. "We've been working on this infuriating contraption nonstop for a month now. I look for ways to boost morale any little place I can."

Cisco eagerly sat them down among what looked to be a bunch of his engineering recruits.

They sat in front of a glass window that looked into the demo room.

Barry and Iris had just enough time to wave hello to the colleagues they recognized before it began.

Once they did start, the giant clock hadn't even reached a minute before Iris's thoughts turned to Barry and what had just happened in the kitchen.

It didn't take long for her to start scolding herself for just diving in when he'd kissed her.

She missed him, of course she did, but she knew them sleeping together would've been the worst thing they could've done.

They had to talk. 

Really talk. 

About everything.

Falling into bed would just be putting the most detrimental type of band aid on all that was hurting them.

 _Then again,_ a voice in her head reminded. _You didn't actually sleep together._

That was true.

They'd just kissed. Something they'd still done the small handful of times they'd argued over the years.

Iris sneaked a tiny peek at Barry.

His full attention was on the demonstration.

Her stomach dipped a little when she saw the small scratches from her nails digging into his neck.

He hadn't said anything since they'd left the apartment and Iris yearned to know what he was thinking.

She was just reassuring herself that maybe what'd happened in the kitchen was what they'd needed to jumpstart a reconciliation when the bomb squad abruptly paused the demonstration because of a possible snag in the calculations.

Cisco came into the room and suggested they all give the team some space to figure it out.

Barry and Iris tried not to show their complete frustration and weariness as the hope of the mission's end slid out of reach once more.

"They'll figure it out," Cisco assured when they were back in the Hub.

Barry huffed and nodded.

Iris tried to think of something to take their minds off the Basement and remembered this morning.

"Hey, any idea why Mason had to cancel report with us this morning?" Iris asked Cisco in a low voice. 

If Mason didn't want them knowing, it was because Francine didn't want them knowing. And Francine had eyes and ears everywhere.

"Emergency briefing about some agents going M.I.A in the Mediterranean," Cisco gave up right away.

Barry frowned at that. "M.I.A? How?"

Cisco shrugged. "Don't know. They checked in seven days ago with a progress report and no one's heard from them since."

"What was their assignment?" Iris wondered, but Cisco shrugged again.

"Classified," he said.

"How many agents?"

"Five," Cisco told them.

"Five?!" Barry and Iris exclaimed.

"How the hell do you lose five field agents?" Iris asked disbelieving.

Cisco shushed them quickly. "A little louder, guys. I don't think they heard you upstairs."

"Sorry," Barry said.

Iris quickly looked around to make sure they were still good.

She briefly caught the eyes of two agents she'd never seen before. They were looking at her with hard, studious expressions. When she doubled back, though, they'd gotten lost in the crowd.

"Needless to say," Cisco continued. "Between this and the murders last month people are starting to talk."

He was about to say more, but a recruit who wanted to chat about one of their assignments called him away.

"What do you make of all that?" Iris asked Barry.

"Nothing good," he said lowly.

It took Iris a second to realize this was the first time they were alone since they’d started pulling at each other's clothes hours ago. 

Her face grew hot.

Barry was looking everywhere but at her and he was doing that nervous twitch with his fingers.

"Barry, I-"

"-Maybe we should actually see what's going on downstairs," Barry interrupted. "I've studied the blueprints maybe I can help."

Iris fumbled.

She doubted he could help the trained professionals. He probably knew it too, but he looked like he wanted to bolt.

Iris swallowed. 

"Sure," she agreed. "I'll tell Cisco."

 _He probably doesn't want to get into personal stuff in the middle of work,_ she assured herself as she waved Cisco over and told him they were going down.

 _He's just being professional._

But, as she observed him in the elevator, she couldn't make herself believe that was entirely true.

It didn't look like he'd avoided her because he was trying to remain professional.

Barry looked genuinely upset.

Even Cisco noticed, shooting Iris a quizzical look that she ignored.

Iris didn't know what to do now.

Since she'd come home, trying to read Barry was like realizing she's forgotten the words to her favorite song.

Not knowing how was something she'd never thought possible.

Their kissing flashed through her mind.

They'd both clearly wanted it.

Barry had initiated the kissing himself.

She didn't know how it could've upset him.

 _Unless it helped him realize something you don't want to admit,_ a nasty voice in her head taunted.

She didn't want to think that it could've made things worse somehow.

She at least had enough sense of self-preservation to not start tearing up in the middle of a closed elevator.

When the elevator opened to the Basements, Iris waited for Cisco and Barry to get off.

"I'm gonna go get us some smoothies," she announced abruptly. "Since this is gonna take a while." 

She let the doors close without a response and let out a harsh breath.

She couldn't help the clear hunch of her shoulders as she found her way into one of the cafeterias.

Maybe she did need some lunch to clear her head.

Iris took her time examining the food options for her and the smoothie options for the others.

She'd just finished swiping her card when two girls huddled by the counter caught her ear.

"That's the field agent that completely lost her shit last year," the older looking recruit whispered.

Her friend's eyes bulged. "No way. _That's_ Agent West-Allen? I've seen her a few times outside my tech training. She's always waiting for Agent Ramon."

"Of course," the girl whispered ineffectively. "They're best friends. They grew up here." She waved a dismissive hand. "His parents and her parents practically built all of Oversight from nothing."

"Explains why they weren't terminated after what she did," her friend said disapprovingly.

Iris's hand involuntarily crushed the container of food she was holding.

"That's so trippy," she continued. "She seems so normal."

"Yeah, don’t be too fooled. You know I heard she didn't even-"

Thankfully, Iris remembered then how to use her feet. 

She quickly breezed past the pair and out the hall, tossing her spoiled lunch in the trash on her way.

Iris pulled her chin up and made her way back downstairs.

Barry was waiting just outside the elevators. 

"Here," she handed him his drink.

"Thank you," Barry said genuinely.

"They called off the demonstration," he explained when Iris looked around the empty gallery. "There was a complication. An error was made somewhere in the simulation. So they _don't_ have a plan after all. Cisco left to go punch something." 

He sounded exhausted. 

He finally looked her in the eyes.

His were a storm of emotions she wished weren't there.

The clear regret in his eyes was by far the most crushing of all.

She sighed in defeat.

Today had started with so much promise.

"Let's just get out of here," Iris mumbled.

 

By the time they made it back to the penthouse, Barry had retreated into his fortress and was as distant as ever.

It wasn't just his silence; it was how he seemed to close in on himself.

Just like that car ride the very first night of the mission.

He at least held the door open for her before entering and chucking off his shoes.

Iris went straight to the kitchen, determined to actually eat something today.

Barry followed.

Iris pretended not to take notice of the bowls and cooking utensils on the floor from when Barry swiped them off, but he stopped and stared at the mess. 

He broke the silence. 

"About earlier..."

"Yeah?" Iris asked when he didn't continue.

He struggled for words.

"We shouldn't have- _I_ shouldn't have... gotten carried away," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Iris said plainly ignoring the knot in her stomach. "We didn't do anything wrong."

"We're not-" he sighed harshly and rubbed his neck. "We just...shouldn't blur any lines."

Iris blinked at that. 

"What lines are there to blur?" she questioned. "We're married."

"Are we?" Barry asked, not looking her in the eyes.

Iris's heart sank the lowest it'd ever gone.

Her lip quivered. 

"How could you say that?" she whispered.

"How could you leave for a year and just expect everything to be exactly how it was?" Barry demanded, his voice growing firmer.

"I don't expect things to be like it was," Iris said honestly. "That would've made all of the last year meaningless. I'm not the same. And I think that's a good thing."

Anger and redness flashed across his face.

"It's a good thing? So you walking out on me was a blessing?" Barry demanded harshly. "Oh thank God I know that now. Here I was thinking it was the worst thing that could've happened to me."

"Don't do that," Iris told him. "Don't put up walls and twist what I'm saying. I'm just trying to talk about what happened."

"Yeah and I don't want to," Barry huffed backing out of the kitchen. "This day's already been shitty enough."

He tried to walk into the guest room, but Iris was right behind.

"You never want to talk about it, Barry! That's part of the problem."

"No, the problem is that you left, Iris!" he turned back. "You just left me. No word, no warning!"

Iris stopped.

"That's not true," she protested. "I _told_ you that I needed a break away from Oversight. I told you Waller had given me a field assignment."

"Yeah, in fucking Manhattan, Iris!" Barry said. "You were supposed to be on a nine day assignment in Manhattan. And somehow, two days before you're supposed to go, I wake up to an empty house and you on a plane to Belgium."

"I needed to leave," Iris said tearfully. She stepped towards him. "You have to understand. I was...I wasn't in a good place, Barry. I was scaring you. I was scaring myself and I just needed to get away. I needed to leave, but I wasn't leaving you. I never left you, I just-"

Barry's eyes grew glassy. "You left," he told her. "That's all that matters."

"I came back. For you."

“I needed to make peace with what I’d done. With killing her,” Iris said simply.

Barry rounded on her.

"Don't- why do you keep saying that?!" he sputtered frustratedly. "You didn't kill anybody!"

"I did," Iris shook her head. She felt tears finally falling, but she didn't stop them. "I killed her. I may not have pulled the trigger, but I got her killed."

Barry angrily turned away.

"She trusted me and I got her killed," Iris said decidedly. "She was an innocent, beautiful child and I killed her."

She'd accepted what she'd done. 

After months of stifling depression, she'd accepted what she'd done and vowed to spend the rest of her life making things right.

"I made horrible unforgivable mistakes last year," Iris continued to his back. "I almost burned everything to the ground. I left because I needed to get better and I couldn't do that here. You know that. I couldn't do that here."

"And I had to see if there was any kind of...forgiveness for what I'd done," she cried. "But, I love you. And I'm _so_ sorry that I hurt you."

Barry gave a humorless laugh and faced her.

His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and he shook his head.

"You've never understood," he told her with a sad, small smile. "What happened-the only person you ever needed forgiveness from was yourself."

"I know what a murderer looks like," he told her firmly, making sure she was looking in his eyes. "I know what a dark, irredeemable heart looks like. That will never be you."

"You need to forgive yourself. You need to move on from what happened, Iris. After this op...we both, just... need to move on."

He stepped towards the guest room again and Iris didn't try to stop him this time.

She fleetingly worried that the aching in her heart was strong enough to actually stop its beating.

"Not you," Iris managed to let out before the door closed.

It hovered close to the frame, but Barry didn't respond.

"I will never move on from you," she declared resolutely.

Iris heard his long sigh and then the door shut.

 

Barry stared ahead, lost in his own thoughts, wondering for the thousandth time how things ended up like this.

His eyes were burning from lack of sleep and his leg wouldn't stop shaking.

He didn't even realize he'd zoned out Jimmy's long, angry ranting until his fist rattled the pitcher of lemonade on the patio table, jolting Barry back into the moment.

"What?" He said brainlessly.

"My brothers," Jimmy said bitterly, his eyes hardening. "They've declared war on their own family."

"What are you talking about?" Barry questioned.

"This!" Jimmy held up his arm and brandished his cast. "This was _all_ them. They put a hit out on me. Their own brother!"

Barry schooled his features. "There's no way Angelo and Vincent did that."

Jimmy waved him off. "They've been threatening me for months, Mikey. Telling me I'm getting too hot, telling me my ideas to expand the business are too dangerous."

"And when they couldn't get me to follow them around like a dog anymore, they sent someone to teach me a lesson. No doubt the next prick they send won't just be using his fists. You know they never even came to see me in the hospital? Just sent some fucking flowers like I was their fucking coworker."

"Laurel's pregnant," Jimmy revealed.

This mission truly was Barry's hell.

"I got a legacy to protect now," Jimmy said, puffing his chest a little. "And I got a birthright to secure for my kid. One that's not the result of being a small minded coward."

He angrily jabbed the table.

"My brothers would never have gotten their clout in this town without me! This empire, these connections, it was all me. And now I'm taking it all back."

"What does that mean?" Barry asked, already fearing the answer.

"They wanted a war, they got a war," Jimmy spit out. 

He slid over an orange folder that was near him and gave it to Barry.

"You're my tech guy," Jimmy told Barry. "I've been blowing a lot of smoke about security and weapon ideas and you’ve had my back drawing up ways to make them legit, but it's time we make something happen. Something real."

Barry opened the folder and was greeted with the detailed schematics of the dirty bomb and a map with four circled coordinates.

Jimmy grinned at him and Barry fought hard not to gulp in dread. "I'm gonna let you in on how I'm gonna take back my town."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Before We Were Brittle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about another long wait. After pushing through the worst writer's block of my life, I lost the entire document somehow. Then had even worse writer's block when I tried to re-write what I'd lost. Which is all particularly frustrating considering this chapter was initially already about 40% done at the start.
> 
> But, I hope you can see why it was a different kind of chapter to try and maneuver around.
> 
> Also, all of the comments and messages I get about this story are really so sweet and a lot of them are legitimately HILARIOUS. I don't know if it was the weird turn the writers took this season or if it's me, but my drive throughout this chapter was at a real low. So, thanks for the insightful and funny tumblr and twitter posts that were motivation to get over the hump ❤
> 
> UnBeta-ed sorry for any errors.
> 
> **There's a trigger warning here for a bit of a graphic description of murder**

Barry hovered by the entrance to the weapons center as he watched the tiny spy angrily stuff a handful of grenades into a green backpack.

He'd been standing there for a few minutes now unsure if he should go in or come back another time. 

He didn't want to bother her and she already looked pretty upset. 

She was muttering angrily to herself and every few seconds she would huff in annoyance, blowing up the tiny flyaways framing her face.

But, none of that did anything to stop Barry from wondering how it was possible for someone to be so beautiful.

He willed his face to stay a normal color as he finally bit the bullet and stepped into the room. 

"Um, Iris?"

"What?" She asked irritably.

She spun around abruptly, but her step faltered and her eyes softened when she saw him.

"Oh. Hi. Sorry, I thought you were someone else," she explained.

"It's alright. Are you busy?" Barry asked already taking a step back. "I can come back."

"No, not at all," Iris said. "Why?"

"Agent Waller sent me," he said.

Iris frowned. “Waller? Why?”

Barry held out a letter addressed to her.

Iris took it and read, suppressing an eye roll at Waller's demanding tone seeping through even written instruction.

Once she actually comprehended what Waller was asking of her, Iris’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Her eyes raked over Barry’s somewhat lanky physique before settling on his kind eyes.

“You…?” she struggled to phrase what she was wondering gently.

Barry actually chuckled and shuffled his feet a little. "Apparently I have a...special set of skills Agent Waller wants refined."

He left it at that and Iris didn't pry further.

It was an almost absurd request, but Iris knew better than to dig her heels.

Agent Waller was always best kept satisfied and at arm's distance.

“Okay,” she sighed looking around. “Uhh I guess we’ll start as soon as possible. It’s not gonna be easy. Two months is no time at all.”

Barry nodded and shot her a grateful smile. 

He hadn’t been expecting her to agree so readily.

He walked around to her side of the table to put down his stuff and almost collided with the hand she stuck out abruptly.

Iris realized she hadn’t properly introduced herself yet.

"I'm Iris by the way," she said. "Iris West."

"Barry Allen," he returned, shaking her hand.

She smiled and slid the green pack off the table before emptying all its contents back on the surface.

"Okay," Iris picked up a big throwing star and tried not to laugh at Barry’s eyes practically doubling in size.

"It’ll be alright,” she assured. “Just watch what I do and you'll be fine."

 

Iris would never admit it now, but she was sure Barry Allen would’ve tucked tail and quit by the end of their first week together. But, to her surprise, he was still going strong six weeks in.

If she were being honest, Iris had come on pretty strong in her demonstrations and their ‘light’ sparring sessions, but she'd wanted some assurances that she wouldn't be completely wasting two months of her life training someone who couldn’t sustain long-term.

Agent Waller had given her thirteen weeks to train and have Agent Allen ready for a complete tactical assessment.

Iris had no idea what Waller’s endgame was, but Agent Allen (or _Barry_ as he kept insisting she call him) did seem as cautious as Iris was about them actually succeeding.

Nonetheless, Barry’s enjoyable company and his determination to see his training through had taken Iris well past the point of worrying about wasted time.

The two of them were compatible in a way she tried not to think too much of. 

Everything was just slower when it was the two of them holed away in the weapons center. 

The world was quieter.

The regimen she’d put Barry on was incredibly challenging, of course, but there was an ease in which they glided through it.

For the majority of their time together it was just their exercises and laughter and Iris _desperately_ trying to make sure Barry’s slippery fingers didn’t send him to the surgery wing with a severed limb.

She was just ahead of schedule one morning, trying to decide on a knife gag to tease Barry with during their session that day when she bumped into him by the Hub.

“Oh hey, Iris,” he smiled warmly when he saw it was her.

“Hey, what’s up? It’s a normal human hour and you’re outside of your lab by choice?” Iris joked. “Something’s off.”

Barry chuckled sarcastically and Iris laughed.

“I just had a meeting,” he explained. “Where are you headed?”

“I’ve got to see a man about some jewelry,” Iris told him.

Barry looked at her, perplexed but she didn’t elaborate further.

When he saw they were both heading to the Basement elevators he offered to tag along to wherever she was going so they could just walk to the weapons center together afterwards.

The plan made sense, but Iris hesitated. 

Until then, Barry hadn’t met any of Iris’s friends.

Well, he hadn’t met either of her two friends.

Since they were usually holed up in the weapons center, they hadn’t run into anyone together yet. 

Iris wanted to keep it that way.

She liked that the only thing Barry seemed to know about her was that she was the director’s daughter. And even that piece of information was just a neutral fact to him.

He didn’t treat her weird. 

With fake camaraderie or the more common hostility. And she knew that would end once he personally saw the way everyone else treated her. 

She liked that he wasn’t a part of the Oversight she disliked: the competitiveness and the distrust and the pettiness.

She liked the quiet little bubble they’d created.

But, he was looking at her expectantly and thinking about it; it was probably a good thing for Barry to see that she actually _had_ a friend in case he’d been thinking she was a weird loner.

(Not that Iris cared what Barry Allen thought of her social life of course.)

When they got to Cisco’s workshop, she was pleased to see he was alone, focusing intently on an intricate looking pair of goggles.

“Hey, Nerd,” she greeted brightly as she gestured for Barry to enter with her. “What are you doing?”

"Astounding even myself with my innovation," Cisco said softly. He delicately connected two small wires.

Iris sighed and Barry laughed, drawing Cisco's attention. 

Cisco cleared his throat. His face turned a little red and he put down his tools. "Kidding.”

“Who’s this?”

"Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon," Iris introduced, pointing to the long-haired young man. "Cisco is _the_ smartest guy you'll ever meet. Anywhere."

Cisco coughed with exaggeration.

Iris rolled her eyes. "And the sexiest," she tacked on.

"I pay her to say that," Cisco grinned. 

He held out his hand and gave Barry's a firm shake before hugging Iris tight and kissing her head. "Why have you come to bother me?"

Iris out her hand to display a sleek, silver bracelet. "It keeps malfunctioning."

Cisco tsked. "How so?"

"Well, for starters the entire voice command system is in Afrikaans now," Iris explained. "And it keeps shocking me every time I try to put it in stealth mode."

He took the device from her and shuffled back over to his lab table.

"It probably short-circuited because you were showing off instead of using it to actually practice," Cisco said in fake annoyance.

Iris grabbed a metallic looking sphere off his desk. "I never show off," she told him.

"What was the last thing you were doing before it started glitching?" he questioned. 

Iris's face grew hot. 

She knew exactly what she'd been doing. 

Using the sonic manipulation feature to silently give Yvonne Campbell a headache after she called Iris a spoiled, frigid bitch.

"I don't remember," she lied. 

Cisco didn't seem to believe her, but he told her he'd have it fixed by morning.

He turned his attention to the stranger standing off by the window displays.

Barry had used their back and forth to give himself a quick tour of the spacious workshop.

Well, he tried to. 

Cisco had noticed he'd kept looking back at them with an intense, unreadable look.

"So you're one of the new biotech scientists right?" he asked.

Barry turned and nodded. "Yeah. I'm actually surprised we haven't met yet considering how close our labs are to each other."

Cisco tilted his head in confusion. "The biotech labs are on the other side of the floor."

"Barry runs his own lab here," Iris explained. "He's smart as shit and only has to report to Francine."

Cisco whistled, impressed. That was extremely rare.

Even for all his genius, Cisco still reported to his brother, Dante, who reported to their mother- the head of the engineering department.

Cisco quietly noted the tiny puff of Barry’s chest at Iris’s praise, though he ducked his head to hide his face turning beet red.

Iris looked at the time and started to put back the knickknacks she’d swiped off the desk.

This thankfully reminded Cisco that he’d been meaning to check in with her.

"Hey, so I heard you had some trouble in weapons again yesterday," he said, lowering his voice.

Iris waved off his worry and looked down. "Nothing new. And nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?" Cisco prodded gently.

She glanced at Agent Allen.

She shrugged. "Bored people with their bored and tired jokes."

Cisco sighed and put a hand over hers. "Don't let them get to you."

“I never do,” she promised, her mouth upturning slightly.

"Well, we should get going," Iris announced in her normal voice. "It's about that time of day for me to kick Barry's ass again."

And Cisco was shocked when Barry genuinely laughed out loud in response.

In a place where most people had an ego the size a small country, laughing at even a good-natured ribbing was rare.

"I think today's the day I take you down," Barry told her. "I can feel it." 

Iris grinned. "If you can disarm me today, not only will I stand in the middle of the Hub and shout it from a box, I'll bake you the biggest cake you've ever seen."

Cisco immediately felt a small wave of gratitude at the smile on Iris's face.

He always did when he saw her happy within the walls of Oversight.

Though in Oversight or otherwise, Cisco couldn't say that he'd ever seen Iris smile _quite_ so wide.

Or as brightly.

In the moment, he decided to throw Barry Allen the smallest bone for at least being responsible for it.

"Don't take the deal!" Cisco advised. "Iris may be my best friend, but I have no problem admitting she sucks at cooking."

As he expected, Barry perked up considerably at the clarification of his and Iris's relationship.

Iris didn't notice since she was rolling her eyes at Cisco's insult.

She ushered Barry towards the exit.

"Don't forget to pick up your bracelet tomorrow," Cisco called after her laughing. And after a minute. "You should come too, Barry."

Barry waved goodbye as he let Iris lead him out the door.

"Just so you know, he's lying," he heard Iris say in a shy voice as the door closed behind them. "I _do_ know how to cook."

Cisco’s smirk grew and he sat back in his chair.

There was no doubt; things around here had finally gotten interesting.

 

There’s was an odd mix of elation and dread during Barry and Iris’s final week of training.

Neither of them had had high expectations of finishing Waller’s assignment, but now Iris could say with certainty that she’d taught him everything she could’ve in the two months they’d been given.

They’d both been walking around a little giddy; flying high on the euphoria of a hard job well done.

But, there was also a heavy sense of finality and closure they both were pretending not to feel.

There were obvious realities they were avoiding about their newfound friendship.

With nothing forcing them together, Barry would return to the Basements and Iris would continue on with her field training.

And with 1,100 spies bustling in and out of the building at any given time, it would be almost inevitable that the two of them would eventually be lost in the flow of their own separate specialties. Only interacting if ever a mission required both of them.

But, those thoughts were too heavy for Iris to think about someone who’d come to be the best part of her day.

So when Barry showed up at the weapons center four days before his assessment, Iris declared that they were done training and would spend their last few days unwinding and relaxing.

And they did. 

Iris took Barry around every inch of company grounds. Showing him all the places hiding places and hidden gems she’d memorized over the years.

She’d been nervous to show him so much. Worried that letting him into the places that she’d always run to to escape the suffocation of Oversight would blow up in her face and ruin the tiny islands of happiness she’d found.

But, the further out they traveled, the less capable she became of turning back.

He was gentle in moving the flowers of her favorite weeping cherry tree out of the way to sit against the trunk.

He listened intently, eyes dancing with delight when she told him the dramatic tale of how she discovered this perfect undergrove during a failed attempt to run away when Francine took away her Easy Bake for starting a small fire.

And his eyes held no judgment when she surprised them both by admitting that sometimes she’d sit by that rock and wonder if there was a part of her that was missing for her to be so good at a job that was so duplicitous and violent in nature.

She felt calm talking to him about things she’d never spoken out loud. 

Her hidden corner of the world had only ever been meant to isolate herself from everything around her. 

It was... really nice to use it in a way that brought her closer to someone instead.

"Thank you." Barry said as they walked back.

"For what?" she asked.

"For sharing this with me. For being an amazing teacher these last two months,” he shrugged. “Just… for everything."

Barry stopped before they reached the entrance. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and searched her eyes for something Iris couldn’t make out.

"Are you okay?" she wondered

Nodded and sighed, stepping closer to her. "Iris, listen. I-"

"-Iris," Francine called.

They turned to see her standing outside one of the doors, looking very unimpressed. "I was expecting you at lunch this afternoon."

Iris frowned and peeked at her watch.

Her eyes widened in shock.

They had been off campus for hours. Well past their normal training time.

"I’m sorry, mom!” Iris said sincerely. “We completely lost track of time."

"It's alright," Francine assured. "I made do with your father. But, you know that's what alarms are for. So that you don't get too carried away."

"Unless you're like me and you forget to set that too," Barry chuckled to himself. He turned the tiniest bit red when Director West spared him a brief glance.

Iris smiled at his self-depreciation.

Francine's lips formed a tight line.

"There’ll be a simulation of next week’s parliament sting that I want you to sit in on this evening," Francine told her firmly. 

Iris agreed quickly.

Francine was at least grateful she finally had the missing piece to the puzzle of her daughter's increasingly frequent absences and cancelled plans.

She took in the two young spies in front of her.

They were standing close together, neither of them stepping away after she’d interrupted whatever huddled discussion they’d been having. And every few seconds Iris would glance at Agent Allen. Almost as if to make sure he was still standing there.

After years in her line of work, few things had the ability to truly rattle Francine. 

From the strange and horrific to the fascinating and duplicitous; she'd seen it all.

But, what she'd never seen before was the look of doe-eyed wonder shining through her daughter's normally-guarded eyes.

Iris was looking at Barry Allen in a way that was enough to worry Francine.

A lot.

“You should call dad and explain what happened,” Francine advised. “He was really looking forward to seeing you today.”

That finally snapped Iris out of her gazing. 

She apologized to both of them and told Barry she’d see him later before jogging into the building.

Francine spared one last glance at Barry. 

“Good afternoon, Agent Allen,” she said airily before she trailed after her daughter.

 

Barry Allen was nothing at all like Iris’s usual type of guy. 

He was actually the opposite in every conceivable way.

Iris thought Barry Allen was incredibly shy and a little awkward.

That he was steps away from being a walking safety hazard. And that he was almost obnoxiously taller than she was.

But, more than anything else, Iris thought that Barry Allen was beautiful.

He'd snuck up on her. In such a quiet way. 

He was so smart.

And he was gentle. In a way no one had ever really been with her.

It didn't matter if she was assigned to teach him how to fight or that she could easily lay his ass out without losing a breath.

Barry looked at her as if she was someone to be careful with.

But, not like she was delicate or fragile.

More like she was something important. 

Something worth protecting all the same.

He’d hugged her tight the day he’d passed his assessment. It was the first time they’d touched outside of sparring.

And it was amazing enough for her to have thought of little else since.

The only thing that stopped her from indulging in her growing feelings for him was the fact that she was pretty certain he only thought of her as a friend.

Her fears over not seeing Barry after his assessment were thankfully unfounded. 

Besides the fact that Waller instructed him to attend regular weapons classes with Iris and her fellow recruits, Barry went out of his way to hang out with her outside of work.

Cisco and Linda usually joined them, rounding out a nice little foursome.

She didn’t want to fall flat on her face with him and ruin the close friendship they’d formed.

So she decided it was best to just leave things as they were and not try to force something he obviously didn’t want.

 

"So, Iris is really pretty, huh?"

A bunch of boxes of screws and bolts came crashing down as Barry's hands fumbled.

"Crap." He hopped off the step ladder to gather them and apologized in a flurry, but Cisco didn't blink.

Once Barry was done arranging most of them back, he saw that Cisco was still watching him. Waiting. 

"Um, yeah she I think she-," Barry cleared his throat. "Sure."

Cisco nodded slowly. "Yeah she is. She’s beautiful actually," he corrected, almost angrily. "And she’s my best friend. She has been since we were bouncing around in diapers."

“Okaay,” Barry nodded, not knowing where this sudden hostility was coming from. They’d literally _just_ finished laughing over a Star Wars joke.

“When are you planning on finally asking Iris out on a date?” Cisco interrogated.

And the last box of screws slipped from his hands again, but he caught it this time.

Cisco raised an eyebrow.

“I uh wh-what?” Barry knew his face was the color of a tomato.

“You want to ask her out,” Cisco told him. “You have for over four months now. I’m just wondering when you finally will.”

Barry’s first instinct was to play dumb, but he knew it was pointless now.

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” Cisco said. 

"Look, I’m not tryna be all in your business,” Cisco assured him, taking the box of screws from his hands. “I’m just saying. You want to ask her out which is great.” 

Barry smiled appreciatively.

“I just want you to know before you do that I don't have any reservations about making a car explosion look like an unfortunate manufacturing accident," Cisco finished, clasping a firm hand on Barry’s shoulder.

His smile dropped. Cisco stepped closer.

"If you were to hurt her; if you were to even _think_ about hurting her, I'd hunt you down. I don't care that you're freakishly tall or that you sometimes carry a gun. I'll kick your ass, Barry."

Barry paused at that. 

He made sure Cisco was looking in his eyes when he said very seriously "I'd never hurt her."

Cisco sized him up for a long moment before he finally stepped back and sported his usual, boyish grin. “Good.”

“But, you better ask her out soon. She probably thinks you’re not interested by now.” He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and gestured for Barry to follow. “I’m starving. Let’s go get some burgers.”

 

Unfortunately, Barry’s crippling fear of losing Iris all together if his plan backfired stopped him from taking Cisco’s advice to act.

But, even his fear didn’t outweigh the absolute certainty he had that he and Iris were meant to be together.

He just needed a way to show someone as incredible as her to take a chance on someone like him.

Luck was never on Barry’s side, though, and it wasn’t until he and Iris were right in the middle of one of the worst fights they’d had that he made his feelings known.

Iris had been ignoring him for the better part of two days.

Her silence was eating him up so much inside, that he was almost grateful when she burst into his lab one afternoon and viciously accused him of sabotage.

“I really can't believe you," Iris gritted out. "I thought you were my friend, Barry."

"I am your friend," Barry said firmly.

"Then why would you tell Agent Pierce that I was hurt?” Iris demanded.

“Because you were hurt,” Barry said simply as if the answer was obvious.

“You had no right to say anything that wasn’t any of your business,” Iris said angrily. “He benched me and now I’m going to miss my first ride along.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “You have a hairline fracture. Just because you went to a civilian doctor to hide it from your mom doesn’t mean you’re not still injured.”

“I’m fine,” Iris told him for the tenth time. “The pain is manageable and I can still perform.”

“You can barely hold a pen, Iris, let alone a weapon of any kind,” Barry rebutted. “And what if you get cornered and have to engage in hand combat? Come on. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t call me ridiculous,” Iris said, fire in her eyes. “And stay the hell out of business that doesn’t concern you.”

“So what? I’m supposed to just let you walk into a fire fight with no way to defend yourself and just not speak up at all?” Barry challenged.

“No, you don’t _let_ me do anything because I don't freaking answer to you, Barry,” Iris told him. “You have a lot of nerve to even think that I’d-” 

"-I was just trying to protect you!" Barry finally yelled in frustration.

"Yeah, well maybe you should just stop! I don't need..." Iris finally stopped herself.

What was she going to say? _I don't need you to?_

She didn't need him to protect her.

She knew that.

He knew that.

If she were being honest, Iris wasn’t even really angry at Barry.

She was angry that she had missed her chance to be out in the field for real.

Angry that she’d pushed herself too hard and gotten hurt in the first place.

She was just taking out her frustration on Barry because he was there.

Nowadays, Barry was always there.

Always looking out for her even when she was charging full steam ahead.

Iris had been running from facing the monumental _thing_ that was between them for months now.

Instead she’d thrown herself into work- pushing herself harder and harder, trying to quiet the longing and wishes that were getting too loud. 

All while doing everything she could to be by Barry’s side.

Because there was no denying anymore that he’d become one of the most important people in her life.

It was an exhausting, fruitless circle she was stuck in trying to pretend otherwise.

And so maybe today could be the day she was finally too tired to run.

Iris didn’t need him to protect her. That was true.

But, she _wanted_ him to.

More than anything.

Maybe it was time she admitted her stubborn need to always protect herself was silly. At least where Barry was concerned. Especially when he was looking at her like this. 

Like he’d walk through fire for her.

She wanted him to never stop looking at her like that. 

She wanted him.

And once her shield of anger fell away, Barry could see all that she couldn't say in her eyes.

And he was brave enough to finally ignore the hammering of his heart against his chest to say what he needed to say out loud.

He carefully stepped towards her.

“It’s okay to not be the strongest person in the room all the time,” he promised gently. “Even when you’re alone.”

Iris sucked in a breath at his proximity and his words. 

“You don’t always have to hide the things that are hurting you,” Barry continued, speaking in a low voice. Terrified of scaring her off. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Iris. I swear.”

Tears stung Iris’s eyes and she blinked back the blurry vision, not wanting to miss a second of committing every inch of Barry’s face to memory.

She swallowed down the last violent urge to retreat and flashed him a half-teasing, shaky smile. "Just that simple, huh?"

Barry’s mouth quirked and he shrugged. "Just that simple."

He closed the last bit of distance between them, carefully pulling Iris towards him until they were flush against each other.

Barry studied her face intensely before he leaned down and kissed her sweetly. 

He pulled back much sooner than she would’ve liked.

Barry searched her eyes, suddenly feeling a little unsure, but Iris cupped his neck. 

“It’s okay,” she assured softly.

She met him halfway this time. 

Her lips slid over his as he tilted his head fully so there was no space between them.

By the time someone eventually came knocking on Barry’s door and they tried to catch their breaths, they were both certain that they’d live through the moment, completely self-aware, that their lives had changed forever.

Hours later after they managed to slip out of work early to one of Iris’s secret spots, they basked in the warmth of finally being truly alone.

They were just lying side by side on the grass, content with not feeling the need to fill the silence.

“What are you thinking about?” Iris pondered when Barry started growing restless.

He didn’t answer for a long while before he sighed and turned to face her fully.

Iris recognized the lost look in his eyes.  
It was the same one he’d had that day outside of Oversight when he’d wanted to tell her something.

“I have to tell you something,” Barry admitted quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was… I was scared that you wouldn’t-. I’ve been too afraid to say it because I didn’t want to scare you off, but if we’re going to be together I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Iris’s stomach twisted with dread. “Okay.”

Barry let out a breath and looked away. 

Iris caught the glistening in his eyes and pushed aside her anxiety to place a comforting hand on his.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” she promised.

"I wasn't really honest the first time we met,” Barry said slowly. “When you asked me why I joined the company,” he supplied when her brows furrowed. “The worldview isn't what I'm after. Something happened when I was a kid. I-my... my mom was killed. She was murdered.”

Iris gasped and sat up. “And the cops, everyone thought my dad did it, but I was there that night. I saw a man stab her," Barry stopped when he realized he was rambling in that rapid, clumsy way he always did when he was brave enough to recount what happened.

When he was brave enough to try one more time in vain to get someone to listen.

But, Iris was looking horrified and so sad so Barry took a deep breath and tried to explain all he could as calmly as he could. 

He told her about the rainy Tuesday night that sent his entire world up in flames.

He told her that he’d been in the house the night his mother was killed.

He wasn't just in the house. He was in the room, up late after a nightmare. 

His father had heard some suspicious noise at the front door and went to investigate. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that. There was a shout and the clear sound of a brief struggle. 

His mother practically shoved him under the dining table and told him not to make a sound.

Barry described the lone, menacing shadow that seemed to glide into the living room and grab Nora from behind and throwing her to the ground.

He’d watched- crouched under the dining table, looking on in horror- as his mother was stabbed to death.

Nora had begged for mercy before the first stab. 

That was one of the sounds Barry had prayed the hardest to forget, but never could. His gentle mother begging a monster for compassion.

The man showed her none.

Barry had watched in silent horror as the man dropped the bloody knife at his mother's side when he was done and casually strolled out the front door.

But, not before he straightened the collar of the bright yellow suit that he wore.

In spite of Iris’s tears, he told her how he had barely registered the man's exit. 

He was too busy staring at his mother on the floor. Her body convulsing as she tried to take just a single breath. Barry knew she was trying to call for him. Trying to comfort him even as she lay dying.

She tried so hard to hold Barry when he crawled out of his hiding place to get to her.

The cops found him huddled over his mother's body.

A neighbor had heard screams and had called the police.

Henry, who claimed to have been knocked unconscious in an initial struggle at the front door, had just come to and was trying to absorb the morbid scene before him when the cops burst through the front door and demanded to see his hands.

No one had believed Barry no matter how hard he begged and cried out the truth.

No one saw him as anything other than a scared little boy who was trying to protect his evil father. 

He told her that Henry has been in prison since that night.

Barry held up his left hand and Iris saw a very faint crescent shaped scar at the top of his wrist.

“I didn’t realize until the social worker brought out a first aid kit that I had been biting down on my hand to keep from screaming when I was under the table.”

Iris shook her head miserably, incapacitated and at a total loss for words. 

Barry knew it well. 

He cleared his throat and braced for the inevitable. “I’m sorry I never told you. I understand if you can’t-”

Iris wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she physically could, praying that he could feel everything that was choking her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she finally was able to say. 

It was all she could repeat over and over and over again, until he wrapped his arms around her too and held on just as tightly.

Until he believed it meant she wasn’t going anywhere. 

Until it healed him.

 

When Iris’s head was in the clouds, she often thought about a brief exchange she had with Linda around the second week of her training Barry.

Linda had lamented about their movie night being cut short because of Iris having to outline lesson plans for extra sessions for Barry.

Iris ignored Linda’s suggestive tone and innuendo at Iris saying she and Barry had a lot they had to do together.

And she’d tried to explain the problem of Barry’s clumsiness.

"It’d be bad enough if he was even somewhat experienced in fighting,” Iris had said. “But, he's really kind of a mess coordination-wise.”

Linda had smiled, trying to gauge if Iris was being serious or not.

“He's just always knocking stuff over and bumping into walls and dropping things," Iris shrugged.

Linda laughed out loud, but when Iris didn’t join in, Linda looked at her like she was insane. 

"Agent Allen?" Linda had tried to clarify. " _Barry_ Allen?"

Iris hadn’t understood her friend’s confusion then.

Months later, when curiosity compelled her to read the file Waller had on Barry, Iris finally understood why Waller had pushed for his combat certification in the first place.

He’d been on the track team all throughout high school, had been in more fights growing up than he’d ever care to admit to Iris even after they were married. And there was a thick incident report from child services from when Barry’s foster father spent two weeks in the hospital after Barry caught him hurting one of the little girls in the house.

And around Barry and Iris’s first date, Linda finally remembered to tell Iris that the reason she’d been so confused the night Iris called Barry clumsy was because every time Barry worked out in the weight room, it seemed like everyone in the room stopped to watch his athleticism and grace.

Linda had even asked to spar with him a few times.

And it took Iris longer still to finally realize that Barry _wasn't_ clumsy and awkward by nature at all. 

He was just always incredibly nervous around her.

But, that was her husband.

For as sweet and gentle as Barry was, and as open as he always tried to be with her, it would take Iris a long time to understand there were layers and layers to him.

Each one took love and patience to peel away. And there were times when he’d fight to stay closed up, but they always worked at it.

She always worked at it until there was nothing but their two hearts exposed between them.

Iris had always believed the idea that the things someone experiences shapes the person that they become, but once she met Barry she realized that that wasn’t true.

Things that happen to you- trials and tribulations-those are out of your control. 

Pain and death and betrayal and injustice can happen no matter. 

But who you become in spite of or because of all of it is a choice.

The person you are in moments of crisis, in moments of darkness, is your choice.

And the person Barry chose to be in the face of _so much_ pain was nothing short of incredible.

During all of their time together, Iris was always in awe of the man her husband was. She was grateful for the love he chose to hold in his heart. And for the kindness and compassion he showed every person he came across.

Every day of the last year Iris was consumed with the idea of choice.

With the question of why people make the choices they make. 

Of how those choices affect them and more importantly, how they affect the people they love most.

She was consumed with knowing if choices made willingly could ever be truly forgiven or absolved. No matter how heinous.

Or if choices were even choices at all and not just things that were preordained to happen anyway.

Because there was no way one human could be responsible for a choice that led to so much destruction and pain.

One person couldn’t possibly have the power to burn lives to the ground without help from the gods.

Right?

She was thinking about this still- the choices that led her even to this very moment: sitting across from a woman who considered her a friend.

A woman who had no idea Iris was only there to find a way to send the love of her life away forever. 

She had no idea Iris was in the middle of doing what she did best: bringing ruin.

“I’m gonna be honest, cause I think we’re good enough friends for that. I’ve never seen you look more rundown than you do right now,” Laurel said bluntly.

Iris shrugged, too tired to deny it.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she said simply.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Laurel sympathized. “Anything you want to talk about? Is it Michael?”

“No, just work stuff,” Iris said absentmindedly. “Just need a vacation I guess.”

After a small stretch of silence Iris realized she and her dark rain cloud were probably being shitty lunch companions.

She faked a smile and tried to perk up as best she could.

It wasn’t much.

“We should plan a trip somewhere,” Iris told her. “You, me, Jimmy and Michael.”

Laurel just looked at her with sad eyes.

“Laurel, I’m fine. Really,” Iris assured.

Laurel stared for a few seconds more before she blinked and looked out the window. “Okay. Where would you like to go?”

“Somewhere where their main export is alcohol. Of any kind.” Iris said truthfully.

Laurel grinned. “I’ll start researching places.”

“Though I’d probably have a few loose ends to tie up before I can sail away,” she said.

There was another stretch of silence, Iris inevitably falling back to her dark thoughts before Laurel interrupted abruptly. 

“Did you know Jimmy bought me my gallery a month after we started dating?” she said wistfully, grinning at her glass of club soda. “I remember we were walking down the beach after dinner and I told him about how my dad and I used to go to different art galleries every weekend. And I told him how hard it was to even look at a painting in college after my dad died. Two days later he took me to this beautiful, empty space and told me it was mine.”

Iris hadn’t known that story. Aside from the financial benefit, and the use of the property’s tunnels, Iris had assumed Jimmy had given the gallery to Laurel as a form of appeasement or placation.

Laurel’s stories of what a great guy Jimmy was were always nauseating to Iris considering how much of a slime ball she knew him to be. But, Iris really didn’t think she could handle an hour more of Laurel blabbering on today of all days.

Iris tried to think of an excuse to get out of there since they were finished eating anyway, but Laurel continued on in a quieter voice. 

"The studio was supposed to be all mine. He told me it was my safe place. ‘To spend time with my dad’ he said. He was always doing incredible stuff like that. Always sweeping me off my feet and being vulnerable in a way I just knew he wasn’t with anyone else.”

Iris bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from scoffing.

“When I finally learned about what he really did for a living, I threatened to leave him,” Laurel said, stopping Iris short. “Well, more than threatened. I packed a bag and I was ready to walk out the door, but he promised things would be different. That him and his brothers would run things differently-more legitimately than their father had.”

Iris sat up straighter. She never heard Laurel talk about Jimmy and his business without dressing it up in pretty innuendo or flat denial.

Iris’s intense stare must have brought her back down, though, because she cleared her throat and folded her hands to say she was done.

She smiled a little sheepishly. “I’ve just been…thinking about my life a lot lately,” Laurel said by way of explanation and apology. “All the dreams I had, the dreams I let go of. Stuff I didn’t know I wanted, but found anyway. I was standing in the gallery today and I kept having this really shitty thought that for how much they’re worth and admired; art galleries aren’t really anything more than four walls and some silly drawings.” 

Laurel giggled. “Isn’t that screwed up to think about something that meant so much to my dad and me?”

She waved her hands dismissively before Iris could respond. “Ehh don’t even listen to me, I don’t know what the fuck I’m even saying.”

“A latent quarter-life crisis?” Iris teased wanting to delve deeper, but deciding to follow Laurel’s cues.

Laurel’s mouth turned up slightly. “I guess so.”

“So I guess Michael will be at the pick-up tonight, right?” Laurel questioned a few minutes later as Iris paid the check. “At the Liberty Street docks?”

Barry and Iris hadn’t heard talk of a meeting of any kind.

Iris tilted her head. “No, Michael didn’t mention anything about any work tonight.”

Laurel hummed thoughtfully and slid her purse over her shoulder. “That's weird. Jimmy’s been talking about how important it is. I would’ve figured he’d want all hands on deck.”

She bid Iris a heartfelt goodbye and they parted ways on the sidewalk.

Iris waited until she was down the block to call Barry.

He picked up right away, but whatever thoughts Iris had of letting him know about the docks flew out of her mind at his shaking voice telling her there was a huge problem.

 

She hadn’t seen Barry since the night he’d basically told her he wanted a divorce.

That was 29 hours ago. 

They’d reverted back to the dance they’d mastered during the early days of the mission.

Side stepping each other whenever possible.

Though, it was too crucial of a time to avoid each other completely. They’d talked on the phone and texted throughout the day. Only about the work.

They both chose to spend the day away from the safe house, mostly from fear of bumping into the other. But, also to keep the momentum with the mobsters going. Because after two months, the op _really_ needed to end.

But, no matter how much it seemed otherwise, they weren’t robots.

They couldn’t totally shut down their emotions to just focus on the job. Not even for the sake of hundreds of lives.

Which is why Iris was ashamed to admit as she climbed the staircase that she was a little more worried about seeing her husband than she was about dealing with the news he’d given her.

Iris made it to the rooftop, quickly scanning and spotting the dark figure by the ledge.

He’d texted her with the address, filling her in on his day with Jimmy Morotta and the complete shit storm they were in now.

When Iris made it to him and they shared a greeting, she took in his appearance.

Barry looked awful.

His hair was a mess, his eyes were red rimmed and his skin was a troubling pallor.

The burning urge to ask if he’d been sleeping was too cruel to indulge. 

"He's completely unhinged.” Barry said after a minute. “Who brings in a stranger they met weeks ago to join a terror plot?"

"He's not unhinged,” Iris shook her head. “Not completely at least. He’s always been unstable, but now he's desperate. Incredibly and chaotically desperate."

"I fucked up." Barry mumbled, forlorn. 

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” Iris said as firmly as she could. “He said it himself, the family was worried about him doing something like this long before we got here. He just needed an excuse to explode.”

“Yeah and I gave him one,” Barry said.

Iris didn’t have a rebuttal.

“So what do we do know?” she asked instead.

“I don’t know. Raid his house I guess. We don’t even know where the bomb is anymore. Would Jimmy be making these plans if he hadn’t already stolen it from Angelo’s house? And if he did, how the hell did we not know?” 

He ran his hand through his hair. “What a fucking disaster.”

Iris sighed and leaned against the rail. She mentally started going over the agents she'd call up for help with a raid. And they'd have to get a sign off from Mason. 

He was going to be so disappointed.

All of a sudden Iris was hit with the oddest sense of déjà vu.

She looked over her shoulder and scanned the surrounding rooftops as best she could in the minimal light.

She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but she took a step towards the stairwell.

“Listen, let’s go back to the safe house, okay?” she proposed. “We don’t know when we’ll-”

A deep, somewhat muffled popping noise went off somewhere to the left of them and Iris felt a burning heat creep up her arm.

Barry had just turned to follow Iris towards the stairs when he was her stumble back and grab her chest.

He didn’t have a chance to ask her what was wrong before she pulled her hand away. 

The moonlight illuminated the dark blood covering her palm and they both observed it for a long beat, not fully comprehending what they were seeing. 

Before Iris’s eyes rolled back and she groaned in pain.

Barry couldn't reach her in time as she dropped heavily to the floor.


	7. Not A Chapter

My dear, dear brother passed away completely unexpectedly early thursday morning. 

I don't know when I'll ever be back to this, but I just wanted everyone to know since I know how many people look forward to this story.

I remember two years ago when I was writing another story I asked everyone for prayers for my brother and my family in the midst of a crisis we were going through snd SOO many of you prayed and sent well-wishes so, thank you. I never forgot that. I know that they helped. 

I'm sorry that I have to post this, but I have no doubt everyone will understand.

Thank you❤


	8. See, I was Dead When I Woke Up This Morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an update!
> 
> I feel terrible because this chapter is literally almost 22,000 words, but I just couldn't make it work as two separate chapters. It's also been a while since I'd written for this, that I'm not sure I remember its tone if that makes sense. So, sorry about that. I *might* go back in and try to edit this into two, but that seems unlikely. 
> 
> This is unBeta'd. I tried my best to proofread so that grammar doesn't make it even more of a chore to read, but it a big chapter and things slip through. 
> 
> **Also, there's a big trigger warning here for threats of sexual assault and rape.

Cisco was burning the midnight oil. Both literally and figuratively.

But even the lavender oil that he’d saturated the air with, the hopes of relaxation was no match for his frustrations.

He bounced an anxious leg as he sat staring at his phone, willing it to ring.

For the millionth time since he’d been forced to install it, Cisco cursed Amanda’s new comms system. 

This was what happened when an administrator in a stuffy pantsuit thought she could do an engineer’s job better than him.

“Damn, Cisco! What happened in here?”

“Linda, thank God!” Cisco jumped up, shuffling through the see of papers on his floor to hug his friend. “I thought you wouldn’t get my messages in time,” Cisco closed his eyes in relief.

“No, I got it,” Linda said, pushing him away and turning her nose up at the mess. “I was almost at the airport hangar, but I told the car to turn around and bring me back here.”

“But, what’s this about an explosive you need me to build?”

“Not build,” Cisco corrected. “You know that assignment Iris and Barry are on for Agent Bridge? With that crime family? I need your help disabling a bomb that they found in a house.”

“You want me to disable a _bomb?_ Is it active?” Linda questioned.

“Yes,” Cisco said. “And it’s seriously stacked. Like level-an-entire-city-block stacked.”

Linda blinked at him waiting for the punchline, but there was none.

“Okay few things,” she said slowly. “First, I’ve never worked with _any_ type of bomb in my life. Let alone a live one that could turn everything around me into dust. Second, I could’ve been on my way to beautiful crystal blue skies and incredible Ghanaian food and instead you called me to work on an op I’m not even a part of,” Linda huffed. “You said on the phone this was a matter of life and death.”

“It is, Linda!” Cisco stressed.

“This is Iris’s case! She’s the best that’s in the game. What do you need me for?” Linda moaned. 

She’d finally gotten an assignment in a country bursting with more stuff to do than just meandering through frozen tundras and arid fields when Cisco called, delaying her call to paradise. 

“I need someone with your build and your flexibility,” he explained. “I think I finally figured out the device’s wiring, but we decided it’s best not to move it because it’s pretty unstable. And there’s just no one on my team that can fit comfortably into the dimensions of the safe where it’s kept.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking the agent that’s actually on call for this op, then?” Linda countered. “Iris is just as flexible as me. And she’s smaller too.”

Cisco furrowed his brows. “I’m not trying to have Barry punch me in the throat having Iris alone in a tiny, closed space with a giant explosive. The poor guy’s already been through enough this year. I think I can spare him having to stand there and watch his wife snip at bomb wires.”

“Great, so you need me cause I’m less important than Iris,” Linda mocked, finally putting her coat down.

Cisco rolled his eyes and grinned. “I need you cause we’re in a serious bind and you’re the best person for the job,” he assured her. “...And also, because Barry can be a bit of a drama king.”

Linda smiled and stretched back in a chair. 

Cisco knew teasing Barry was Linda’s favorite pastime.

“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll do it. But I want access to whatever prototypes you’re working on for the next month. The top secret-stuff too not just the basics. I need new toys.”

“If you can do this _and_ finally give me the number of your new sparring partner, I’ll give you first peek at all my blueprints for the next year,” Cisco bartered.

“Who? Agent Reynolds?” 

Cisco’s entire face lit up and he nodded.

Linda tilted her head, as if weighing the option of losing a new friend by introducing her to Cisco against having access to custom made drones that could literally shoot fire.

“Alright,” she finally sighed. “I’ll give you her number. I just have to call Waller’s office. Let her know I need a slight extension here.”

Cisco silently thanked God for the loyalty of his friends and for his own breathtaking genius for finally cracking the bomb code.

Once Linda was set up and ready to go, they got to work.

Cisco rolled the practice device in front of her and began talking her through the disabling process.

During a lull in conversation Linda suddenly laughed, ruminating on her friends’ dynamics. “Barry _is_ a complete drama king,” she agreed as she carefully snipped a wire. “God-forbid Iris accidently bump into a pillow or stub her toe on a flower. Barry will turn that really red color he always does when he’s trying not to lose his shit. Imagine if he had to talk her through this?”

Cisco chuckled. 

He didn’t feel bad about teasing his friend.

There was nothing they said behind Barry’s back that they hadn’t said to his face a thousand times. 

Iris was a deadly assassin. She was a world-class spy and had pure, unadulterated badassery coursing through her veins. 

While they were working Barry always said he had no problem with Iris jumping out of burning buildings and fighting bad guys on the roofs of speeding cars. But the minute they were just in the world away from the job, it was clear to anyone around that Barry regarded Iris West as a priceless jewel that couldn’t be exposed to even the slightest inconvenience.

But, even in work-mode, there were just certain things even Barry wasn’t stable enough to watch her do.

Cisco shook his head. “As long as Barry’s within a five-mile radius of her, Iris would never even get a papercut.” 

He relaxed a little in his seat, carefully pointed out a wire for Linda to avoid cutting at the last second, basking in the calm of a surprisingly stressful op coming to an end.

 

Barry only had a second to register a familiar popping sound somewhere overhead before Iris groaned and fell to the floor. 

He looked around in confusion before he realized that he'd heard the sound of a gun having gone off and that blood was quickly saturating Iris's clothes.

He ran to her, carefully lifting her up against him.

She was still conscious, thankfully, but she was trying to roll over in pain. 

“Iris! Hey, can you hear me?” Barry asked around the tremors in his throat. He tried to hold her steady without hurting her. 

She clutched her chest and gasped.

Barry started to open her shirt to see the damage, but Iris shouted out at his jerky movement. 

“S-sorry. I'm sorry.”

His thoughts raced by, not a single one stopping long enough for him to even think about what to do next.

Leaning over her as she gasped in pain while blood pooled her clothes was fucking with his head. 

It was too reminiscent of another night like this.

“ _Ba-rry_.” he swore he heard his mom whimper. 

He closed his eyes painfully. 

**Keep your shit together.**

**Keep your shit together.**

“Bear-” his eyes sprang open. Not his mom. Iris. She was still alive. He could save her. 

“Cover.” he leaned closer to Iris to hear through her gritted teeth. “Find cover. They'll shoot again.”

Barry looked blindly at where the shot had come from. 

He couldn't make out anyone on the roofs. 

But he still stayed low and moved Iris as gently as he could behind a generator.

They both relaxed a little bit at having a barrier between them and their assailant.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked immediately. He tried to look her over in the darkness. 

She nodded, but even in the moonlight Barry could see the beads of sweat on her forehead and the strain on her neck to keep from crying. 

“I thin-think...I think it's just my shoulder,” she managed. 

Her voice was shaking. 

Her shirt felt soaked through and Barry was worried about how hard she'd hit her head when she first dropped.

He weighed their options. 

They couldn't just stay up here and wait for the shooter to come over and finish the job.

He could call for backup. 

But the shooter could either be right in front of them or long gone before help arrived. 

He could set Iris up safely out of sight while he dealt with the threat alone. But then she’d be alone for who knows how long and he wasn’t sure the extent of her injury. 

Unfortunately, he knew the most pragmatic choice would be to grab her tight and shoot their way out.

None of their options were ideal.

But, Iris was breathing harder now.

And her skin felt hot and clammy to the touch.

Barry knew he had to make a move. Now. 

He put a hand on her cheek to re-focus her attention. “We have to get out of here.”

Iris fought against the waves of agony and nausea and could only manage a whimper of consent.

Barry was worried about her making it down all those flights of steps and down the street to the car without passing out.

He put a shaky hand over hers as he pulled her gently to her feet. “Stay with me, alright?”

Iris nodded once and then they were off. 

Iris felt like her body was on fire.

She was able to push down her nausea enough to make a run for the exit, but she felt as if her skin was being torn apart.

She was pretty sure the bullet hadn’t hit a major artery. 

Before the searing pain took hold, she’d felt the initial impact of the hit somewhere on her shoulder.

That thought could only offer so much comfort at the moment though.

Iris followed Barry’s hurried steps as best she could. 

She didn’t hear any more bullets ricocheting around them as they ran, but then again, she was contending with the booming cacophony her stammering heartbeat was creating in her ears.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when they made it inside the building’s stairwell and Barry took another moment to assess her.

“Hard part’s done,” he assured her, leaning her full weight on his side.

Iris almost laughed at his obvious lie. 

They stood at the top of about four flights of stairs, her head was spinning, and there was the almost-certain possibility that her assailant would be waiting at the bottom for them.

Iris sent up a quick prayer as they descended.

Her adrenaline kept her upright for the first dozen steps or so, but after that, Barry was practically carrying her.

“Just stay with me, Iris,” he kept telling her over and over. “Just stay with me.”

Iris tried to keep up with him, but her mind felt like it was slipping. 

The seemingly never-ending winding of the monochromatic stairwell had her vision crossing. 

She tried to focus on the rhythmic pounding of their feet echoing throughout the empty building, but she was losing the fight. 

“Stay with me,” Barry said again. “Don't leave.”

_"So, what?" Barry asked, his voice small and indignant. His hands shaking noticeably as he clutched his cell tighter. “That's it? You're just leaving me?”_

_“I'm not,” Iris assured him again. “It's just a short assignment, Barry. To clear my head. To try to get back to who I used to be before... before all of this.”_

_“Without me there.”_

_Iris didn't answer._

_“I'll be back in two weeks, Barry. I love you.”_

_She heard a faint sniffle before he hung up in response._

Barry's hands slipped and he let go of Iris a little, jostling her back to the present. 

He swallowed hard and apologized, trying not to think about the fact it was getting harder to have a solid grip on her since her entire left side was drenched in blood. 

Iris could now see a light shining at the bottom of the stairs. 

The exit. 

The relief in Barry's voice was palpable. “Almost done.”

_“What have you done?”_

_Barry looked at her in horror. Iris had one hand gripping her smoking gun, her other held tightly to the little girl’s blood-soaked shirt._

_“I… I did what I had to,” Iris tried to explain quickly. Terrified by the look in his eyes. Terrified of her own actions. “I did what I had to do.”_

Iris came back to herself when Barry stopped short of the final landing. 

If the shooter was waiting to finish the job, he'd have to figure out a way to take them out without slowing down. 

Iris couldn't afford to lose any more blood. 

Fortunately, the stairwell had given way to a tiny balcony that overlooked the small establishment. 

It was a coffee shop. 

Even more fortunate, from where they stood Barry had a clear view to scope out anyone hiding in the shadows. 

He painstakingly swept his eyes over every inch he could see. Not moving a muscle until he’d peered over every corner.

He didn't see anyone hiding. 

When no more shots rang out as they’d run across the roof, Barry had hoped it meant their attacker had fled soon as they'd seen Iris drop. 

It looked like he was right.

He led Iris down the last bit of stairs and through the café. 

Iris was just about ready to call it quits. 

Her body was screaming for respite while her mind seemed bent on finishing what the bullet started.

The plush chairs surrounding them were beckoning her to take a break. 

There was a heavy scent of rich coffee in the air. 

Again, her mind dipped into the darkness.

_Giant brown eyes that could barely peer over the other side of the counter were rapt with wonder._

_Tiny fingers deftly grasped both the granite countertop and a well-dressed barbie doll. Watching her as she methodically measured water into the espresso machine._

_“Can I have some coffee too, please?” she asked excitedly._

_“Sure,” Iris smiled, not looking up. “Can I see some ID first?”_

_“Uhhm, I lost it,” The child said._

_“You_ lost _it” Iris asked, feigning suspicion._

_Conspiratorial giggles filled the kitchen in response._

Iris faltered for the first time at the memory of the child's adorable lisp.

The tears that fell from her eyes were from a pain much worse than any gunshot wound. 

She would've doubled over if Barry wasn't holding her. 

Even still, she folded in on herself as much as she could.

“We gotta keep moving, Iris,” Barry said. “We can't stay here.”

Iris shook her head and started to pull back. She _needed_ to sit down. 

But Barry wouldn’t let her go. He held on tight, so tightly that his grip would hurt even without her injury.

She could feel his heart hammering in his chest and when she looked at him, there was enough fear in his eyes to stop her descent.

“We’re almost there,” he pleaded. “Just keep going, Iris.”

Iris sighed. A sob broke through, but she gritted her teeth and re-adjusted herself so that her weight was back on him.

She could make it, she told herself. She’d make it to the car. 

She’d push down the memories that added weights to her feet.

She’d be strong. 

For him at least.

Out on the street, they weren’t as lucky to find it empty. 

There were people bustling along the busy sidewalk and Barry and Iris tried to blend in as best they could.

The night gave enough of a cloak to the thin trail of blood Iris was leaving behind, but the cry she let out when a passerby accidently bumped her shoulder almost gave them away.

When they finally made it to the car, Barry slid Iris into the backseat, slipping a balled-up cloth under her seatbelt to put pressure on the wound. 

He ran around to the driver’s seat and started to quickly open the GPS’s programmed coordinates.

"We can't go to Oversight," Iris gritted out.

Barry looked at her.

“Someone just tried to kill me. We were followed to that roof. We can't lead them straight to headquarters,” she reminded him.

“You need medical attention,” Barry argued.

“Just drive to the safehouse,” Iris said. “As long as it’s not compromised, we can deal with this from there.”

Barry found himself once again weighing their options.

Iris was right. 

They couldn’t go to headquarters. He was sure the attacker was long gone, but if there was even a chance they were watching, leading them to Oversight’s top-secret location was not an option. 

Safe Houses were built to be mini-fortresses. No matter how unassuming they looked, Oversight engineers always installed enough security measures to subdue threats and protect assets before any agent arrived to use them.

He pulled out his phone, turned on the car and headed towards the safehouse.

They made it there in record time with Barry only breaking about a dozen speeding laws.

"Were we followed?" Iris asked as he pulled into the building’s parking garage. 

Barry didn't answer.

"It might not even matter. They could already know where we're staying," she breathed heavily.

Barry came around and unbuckled her seatbelt then took off his coat.

"Barry-"

"Just let me worry about that," he tucked a handgun under his shirt.

Barry slid his jacket over Iris's shoulders, covering up any visible traces of blood and helped her out the car.

Even though he was careful not to touch her injury, she still hissed in pain at the added weight of the coat.

He moved as quickly as he could to the lobby doors, keeping Iris steady against his side. To anyone walking past, they just looked like a couple wrapped in each other’s arms.

Well, to anyone who didn't stare too long at Iris’s ashen face and gritted teeth. 

There were no chatty neighbors in the lobby, an added blessing, and the doorman spared them a pleasant greeting before going back to some paperwork.

Barry tried not to panic when Iris all but collapsed against the wall once they were alone inside the elevator.

When they got to their front door, Barry adjusted his stance so that Iris was leaning more behind his back than his side.

He pulled out his gun and took the lead- making sure his body was keeping hers out of sight- and silently made his way inside.

The apartment seemed empty. There was no sign of forced entry and Barry could see the windows and balcony door were all still intact and locked.

He quickly helped Iris out of his coat and leaned her against the wall.

“Are you okay? I’m gonna do a quick sweep,” he whispered. “We don't have a lot of time to-”

Iris stiffened.

“What?” Barry asked immediately.

“Someone’s in here,” she whispered. She tried to push off the wall, but her strength was just about gone.

Barry strained his ears. He hadn't heard a sound, but he knew Iris’s senses were almost superhuman.

They both waited for another sound when Iris’s bedroom door flew open and Wally West came bursting out. 

"Wally!" Barry exclaimed. "What the hell. How did you get here so fast!?"

Wally didn't answer. 

He was quickly drying his hands with a clean towel and he didn't even seem to register the gun Barry had reflexively drawn inches from his face.

His eyes were locked on his sister's pain-filled ones and Barry knew he was already into doctor mode.

"What happened?" Wally asked.

Barry tossed his weapon and slid his arm back around Iris.

He'd sent Wally a 911 text on their way back and Wally had given Barry the same instruction as Iris about not returning to Oversight, telling Barry he'd meet them at the safehouse. 

"She was shot in the shoulder,” Barry said. “Don't know what type of gun, but it was far off.”

Wally nodded curtly and moved to Iris’s other side to help Barry put her on her bed without too much strain. 

Wally stood over her and assessed her condition, trying to ignore her tear-streaked face as best he could.

He hadn’t been still for even two minutes, but Barry was already swallowing his demands for Wally to hurry up and treat her. 

He reminded himself to be empathetic of Wally’s position. 

The guy was practically the same ashen color as his sister.

Wally was all textbooks and charts.

And his view of Oversight was confined to whoever came into the surgical wing when he was on duty. 

And since Oversight only employed the best of the best, field agents mostly only came to him with non-fatal breaks and bruises. 

If there were missions that went awry and resulted in life-threatening injuries (and there were) Wally never saw them.

Francine had taken pains to make sure Wally was never directly on the frontlines of a mission.

They all had actually. 

Joe had retired from the company when Wally was about six. So, Wally had grown up knowing Joe West more as a loving and attentive stay-at-home dad than as the legendary spy that everyone else knew him to be.

When he was old enough for it, Francine had pushed Wally towards semi-boarding at his private schools to keep him away from getting sucked into company interests like Iris had been.

And when Wally was inevitably in the building as he got older, Barry had used the time to keep Wally’s attention in his lab; steering his interest completely in the direction of staying in the safe confines of Oversight and away from field work.

Wally graduated both high school and undergrad early with honors and headed straight for medical school much to their collective relief.

And he'd been employed at Oversight as a surgical intern the last year and a half.

Despite already being in his 20s now, there was still something innocent about Wally. 

Something pure that had no business being corrupted by the darkness of the job. 

Wally was kind and funny and, though he wasn’t naive in the slightest about the ways of the world, he approached every problem with such a strong sense of optimism.

It was that optimism he clung to as he grabbed hold of his big sister’s blood-drenched shirt. 

He cut it carefully, praying that what was underneath was nowhere near as bad as it looked on the outside.

Once her shirt was off, Barry was relieved to see that the wound had slowed in bleeding. 

“Shot to the shoulder. Through and through,” Wally sighed in relief.

The bullet hadn't hit anything major and she wouldn't need surgery to take it out. 

That's as much as Wally let himself celebrate because the night was far from over.

By the time he cleaned around the open wound, Iris’s breathing had evened out some and her muscles relaxed a bit, no doubt because she was finally off her feet.

Wally felt bad for what he had to do next.

“There's dirt inside it,” he told them. “I guess she was laying on the floor. I have to clean it out and stitch the wound. But, before that I have to make sure the bullet didn’t shatter bone.”

Iris looked at him with less cloudy eyes. “If that’s all, why do you look so scared?”

“Iris, I'm sorry, the cleaning is going to be bad enough but without an X-ray I'm gonna have to feel around the bone myself," Wally said.

"Some local anesthetic that was in my house was the best I could do with the time," he sighed. “It’s all going to hurt. A lot.”

Wally looked to Barry solemnly. "You're going to have to hold her down."

But, Barry was already shaking his head.

“If she’s jerking around, it’s just gonna make this all harder,” Wally said.

“Just do it, Barry, please,” Iris said when Barry protested further. “Just do it. It’s alright.”

He seemed to wrestle down more protest before he nodded. 

Iris leaned back and braced her free hand on the mattress.

Barry carefully put a hand on her good shoulder.

“Are you ready?” Wally asked.

Iris nodded and couldn’t stop the single tear that escaped.

Wally’s face was blank of any emotion. 

He tried to be as gentle as he could, but he had to make sure he was thorough. 

Iris was struggling to focus on just breathing through the searing pain, but it wasn't long before she was squirming and crying for him to stop. 

Barry was clenching his jaw so tightly he was sure he'd crack a tooth, but he powered through, keeping a loose hand on her shoulder.

“Tighter, Barry,” Wally directed. “She’s moving too much.”

“Please, that's enough,” Iris cried. “There's no bone fragments!”

Though she cried out even harder when Wally moved on to cleaning out the wound for suture. 

Barry swallowed down bile. “Wally, maybe you should-”

“Barry.” Wally cut him off firmly.

Iris grabbed Barry’s hand in desperation and squeezed her eyes shut. 

Barry was glad to just support her through the pain, but Wally glared at him in frustration.

“I’m holding a needle and she’s already hurt,” Wally stressed as his voice cracked, his exasperation finally seeping through. “It’s for her own safety. _Please_.”

Barry allowed Iris a few more minutes of refocusing her pain to his hand before he gently pried it free and climbed over her on the bed. He held her shoulder tighter and locked his other arm across her stomach. 

“It's okay. He's almost done,” Barry reassured. 

He had no idea if that were true, but he kept repeating it.

With her not flailing around, Wally finished his stitching in no time.

Iris settled as best as she could with the dull, throbbing pain in her newly bandaged arm and Wally and Barry pulled themselves away from her to clean up and make sense of what had unfolded.

Barry was angry.

He’d seen enough of Iris in an incredible amount of pain with no idea how to help to last a lifetime.

And until he could track down the person who caused her latest torment, Barry wasn’t proud to admit he took his anger out a little on Wally.

It’d been for her own good but holding her down as she cried in his ear didn’t help their already shitty night in the least.

“Don't look at me like that,” Wally demanded, catching Barry's dark glare through the bathroom mirror. “That wasn't easy for any of us.”

Barry made a noncommittal sound and stalked out to get a drink.

After he cleaned up and packed up his med bag, Wally sat back down with Iris and started talking to her.

Barry couldn’t hear what he said from the other room, he could hear him whispering. 

He relaxed just a bit. 

If there was anyone on the planet that could soothe Iris when she was hurt, it was Wally West. 

Wally and Iris were complete opposites, but they were thick as thieves. 

Iris was impulsive and surefooted. She could unravel a jumbled puzzle or untangle a convoluted ball of ropes in a moment's time without any thought to it. 

She could defuse hostile situations with the briefest of words and make friends of her enemies with a well-placed smile. 

Iris was incredibly intelligent, but she didn't put too much weight behind being academic. 

Wally, on the other hand, was studious and laid back. He believed that knowledge was the universal key to unlocking any door you could want open. 

He was quick to laugh and sing, but he never approached a problem without stopping and looking at it from a thousand different angles first. 

Like Iris, he carried himself with that famous West confidence; mastering the family art of silent command and complete self-possession.

Iris watched him bustle around the room, reorganizing pillows and comforters until she was warm and comfortable.

She was incredibly grateful to be feeling even a little bit like herself again. Her pain threshold was very high, so laying down with her wound clean and stabilized took away most of the agony she’d been feeling.

“Wally?” she asked when he finally settled next to her on the bed. “Why is there a pile of luggage in the living room?”

He breathed a chuckle. “Even when you’re shot and bleeding, you still notice everything huh?”

“I have superpowers,” Iris shrugged one shoulder. 

Wally scratched his ear sheepishly. “I was on my way to the airport when Barry called."

“The airport? For what?” Iris frowned.

“Linda's new assignment starts tomorrow,” Wally reminded her. “She's already in Accra.”

Iris peered up at him sternly. “Are you serious?” 

“I told you last time we talked that I was going.” Wally said a bit defensively. 

“No, you said you were maybe thinking about going and I said you were maybe being an idiot,” she clarified.

“I’m in love with her and I want her to know,” was his only defense. 

“Wally,” Iris sighed. She thought of how best to finally make him see. “It's just not a good idea. Spies and romance is just… not sustainable.”

“Mom and dad made it work,” he countered right away. “You and Barry made it work.”

“Mom and dad? Really, Wally?” Iris asked. 

Their parents didn’t have the most traditional marriage. 

Iris loved her own father more than words could ever say, but his relationship with Francine was complicated to say the least.

Growing up, it was just commonly accepted by the kids that most times their mom and dad would dance for hours on end to Joe’s dusty old records and sometimes they’d give curt greetings and roll their eyes when the other wasn’t looking. 

That most times they would sleep in the same room and kiss in public until their poor kids begged them to stop, but other times they’d sleep in opposite wings of their grand house. 

Or even one school year where they lived on opposite sides of the street. 

Most times Francine would refer to Joe as her husband while other times as her children’s father. 

Almost every Christmas and thanksgiving was held at the West estate, but the few that weren’t Francine and Joe would arrive at the party venues in separate cars and spend as much time as they could mingling with other people.

For years, Iris hadn’t been 100% sure if her parents were even legally still married.

But, her and her brother never felt as if their family would be lacking one way or the other.

It was maybe a little unconventional, but there was nothing tumultuous or unstable about the dynamic they had.

Growing up, neither of them ever went a day without seeing their parents. Regardless of the status of their parents’ relationship; dinner and breakfast were eaten together as a family, no matter what. 

Growing up, Francine and Joe never missed a bedtime or a recital or a sports game. They were a united front through and through. 

Even to this day- though they were very much on the ‘on’ than the ‘off’ the last several years. 

Iris and Wally knew without a doubt that their parents loved each other more than anything.

Francine could weave words of encouragement and adoration until Joe believed he was invincible.

And Joe was the only person on earth who could make Francine laugh until she cried. Or who could make her giggle like a schoolgirl at the drop of a dime.

Wally wasn’t wrong. Their family was smooth. It all just worked.

But, that was Francine and Joe. 

Wally wasn’t like them.

He wouldn’t survive a life of not-nows and maybes and packed bags and jet-setting missions.

“Mom and dad shouldn’t be your measure of making a relationship in our profession work,” Iris said gently.

Wally shrugged that off.

“You and Barry got married when you were still a teenager and y’all have been together for almost a decade now,” he reminded her.

Iris huffed a little and spoke past the sudden lump in her throat. “We spent the majority of last year on different continents and we’re barely speaking now soo…” 

Wally blinked at her before he actually threw his head back and laughed. 

“If you really expect me to believe the two of you aren’t going to be just fine after all this dust settles, those painkillers must be stronger than I thought,” he told her when he caught his breath. 

Iris smiled appreciatively at her brother and ducked her head.

She always wondered how she got so lucky to have a baby brother like him. 

Wally was her ride-or-die. He was one of her best friends and her biggest cheerleader. 

This past year, Wally never pushed her to come home before she was ready.

He’d told her he understood the appeal of getting away. 

Of hopping on a jet and flying until every problem was just a blur in your peripheral. 

Everyone knew that Barry was Wally’s favorite person in the world, but Wally never tried to guilt Iris into coming back for Barry’s sake. 

He never implied that he thought she was wrong or that she was a bad person. 

He just supported her through it. 

Just like he always did. 

“And anyway,” he continued, drawing her out of her head. “If it all blows up in my face, I’ll just tell mom and dad that it was you and Barry’s idea. That will always get me off the hook.”

Iris laughed and immediately regretted it.

“Are you alright?” he checked.

“Getting shot fucking _hurts_ ,” she groaned.

Wally stayed up with her for a little while longer. 

He double checked that he correctly remembered Linda's favorite flower and favorite chocolate and his sweet planning wore Iris down enough for her to swallow her misgivings and wish him a gentle good luck. 

After he re-examined her and was completely sure she didn’t have a concussion, Wally eventually told her to get some rest and went to see what Barry was up to. 

He found him at the bar by the kitchen, well into an expensive-looking bottle of scotch.

“She's resting,” Wally led with the news Barry wanted most. “She's as comfortable as she can be without stronger meds.”

Barry sighed and nodded, downing his glass. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Wally shrugged. 

Barry felt bad about his earlier anger. 

Wally’s color hadn’t fully returned to normal yet. 

Seeing his sister in pain wasn’t any easier for him.

Barry poured another drink and handed it to his brother-in-law. 

“Who shot her?” Wally questioned after he quickly swallowed the alcohol.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Barry vowed.

He eyed something by the door and Wally turned to find night gear and weapons on the floor. 

“Not tonight,” Wally tried.

“You're staying the night, right?” Barry ignored him. “I'll be back before she wakes up in the morning.”

“Barry, you can't go out there ton-” 

“-Wally, just please,” Barry interrupted. He sighed and pressed his fingers against his eyes.

He was _exhausted_ and was surprised he was even still standing upright. His adrenaline was just about gone and his knees felt like paper, but Barry knew before the night ended someone would answer for hurting Iris. 

They’d answer with blood.

“This place is secure and fully locked down. No one can get in without an act of God. Just stay with her and call me if anything happens,” he instructed, packing up his stuff. 

Wally knew he couldn’t let Barry leave like this. Not when his normally invincible sister was laid up in bed. Not when they had more questions than answers.

“Iris needs you here,” Wally rushed out, using the one thing he knew would keep Barry still when he was like this. “All she had was a small numbing shot.”

Barry stopped his hurried steps. 

“She’s gonna be in a lot of pain until we can get her to headquarters tomorrow and she’s not gonna let me help her. She’ll try to act like she’s not in pain with me. You know that. And if she wakes up and decides to go after you how the hell am I supposed to stop her?”

“Fine. I’ll stay” Barry conceded after a minute, already making plans to pick up her assailant’s trail the next day.

He helped Wally bring his things into the guest room and while the two of them made up the bed, Wally filled him in on his plan to win over Linda Park.

For all the things weighing heavily on him, Barry was amused enough by Wally’s idyllic musing.

He knew pure love. 

He’d seen it every day between his parents for his first ten years. Then he’d spent the following nine years believing he’d been privileged enough to witness something beautiful, but something he’d never see again in his life. 

From the last time he saw his parents together until the very second he’d looked upon Iris’s face for the first time, he was secure in the knowledge that love of any kind had left his life forever.

He had been wrong. And he was so grateful for that. 

He saw it now in Wally’s eyes.

Maybe it wasn't one that would last forever, but it was true. 

Now whether Linda Park felt even an inkling of the same was a different story entirely, but Barry wasn’t about to be the one to remind Wally of that.

He wished him well and made him promise not to leave before they shared breakfast and a brainstorming session over what to say to Linda.

Right before Barry left the room Wally called him back. 

“Do you think it was because of the mafia sting?” He asked hesitantly, referring to Iris’s shooting. “Or was it something else? I’ve been hearing some things. About some random attack in the Baltic?”

Barry shrugged, not having an answer. 

“Whoever they are they shot Iris,” he said plainly. “I don't care about the whys. It won’t be able to save them now anyway.”

After he bid him goodnight, Barry walked back into the living room and took a step towards his usual sleeping spot before he tossed aside the silly thought.

He quietly opened Iris’s door and stepped inside to find her wide awake, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Hey,” Barry said.

“Hey,” she returned.

Once he was further in, he noticed she’d haphazardly stepped into some sneakers.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled.

Iris studied him intently. “Are you?”

He should’ve known she’d know exactly where his head was after what happened. 

Barry knew Wally wasn’t exaggerating when he said Iris would chase after him if she thought he was running towards danger.

Gunshot wound or not.

“Get back in bed. I’m not going anywhere,” Barry said softly.

Iris didn’t budge.

Barry chuckled to himself. He fished out the car keys, his cell phone, and his ID badge and put them all on the bed to prove himself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated. “You can hold on to these if you don’t believe me.”

Iris eyed him one last time, but she was satisfied that he wouldn’t try to chase after shadows if he had no transportation or access to weapons. 

She used her good arm to swipe his things under one of her extra pillows. “Fine.”

Barry knelt down and helped her out of her shoes. “How were you going to follow me on foot, with one arm, and completely untied shoelaces?”

“You underestimate me,” she said, trying to inflect her usual cheeky confidence, but the tiredness in her voice was palpable to the both of them.

Barry gently leaned her back into bed using as much care as possible.

“Wally's spending the night, then he's going to the airport in the morning,” Barry informed her.

“He told you what he’s planning?” Iris queried. Barry nodded.

Iris sighed and shook her head. “It’s not a bad thing, but you know he idolizes you a lot.”

Barry nodded again and shrugged. “It’s what little brothers do I guess.”

Iris fixed him with an exasperated look as she tried to adjust her sling. “I hope you know, even if it works out for them, my mom's going to find a way to blame it all on us. ‘Filling his head with big ideas of colleague fraternization,’” she mimicked her mother’s tone.

“I'm counting on that,” Barry sighed. He adjusted her sling and Iris thanked him.

Almost immediately it was as if the shield of the night’s life-or-death urgency fell away and they both remembered the last conversation they’d had when they were this close together in the house.

Barry closed his eyes painfully and stepped back.

Iris felt her familiar weight of despair locking around her chest. 

But, she decided not to give into the heartache.

Tomorrow they could grieve over all the broken parts of themselves. Tonight she was alive when she could’ve died.

She wasn’t going to cry herself to sleep.

Iris reached out and touched Barry's left shoulder. 

"We match now," she said teasingly, trying to get him to loosen that heavy frown pressing down his eyebrows.

Of course, Barry didn't find that funny in the least, but Iris knew annoyance was a better companion than sorrow.

She almost smiled when he rolled his eyes and sat by her side. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. 

“I will,” she promised. “You should too.”

Barry nodded and pushed off the bed. "I'll stay in here tonight," he told her.

Iris swallowed a wave of panic. She could put on her Big Girl Pants and compartmentalize her pain for one night if she had to, but there was no way she was strong enough to do that with Barry inches from her.

Especially if their first time in the same bedroom again was due to obligation and not reconciliation.

"I'm fine, Barry. Really,” Iris assured quickly. “It was through and through. It was just the shock of it all that made it seem worse than it was." 

Barry folded his arms across his chest and shifted on his feet. 

His gaze flickered to the floor then her bandages before landing back on her eyes.

"Please?" he whispered.

The vulnerability on his face made Iris relent and nod.

And Barry seemed to lose most of the tension in his shoulders. 

Iris carefully slid under her covers. 

Barry discreetly pulled out her wedding ring from his pocket and dropped it back on the bedside table as he helped her settle.

She'd taken it off when Wally was fitting her sling earlier after it’d gotten caught in the mesh.

Staring at it on the table, Barry had noticed blood was seeped into every crevice of the diamonds and the sight left him nauseated.

So, he had used the time Iris spent talking to Wally to slip into the bathroom and clean it off.

He’d taken great care to remove every speck of red and dirt off the surface and it glistened now as brightly as the day it caught his eye at the jeweler's.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” Barry instructed her as he made his way over to the daybed by the window. 

He didn’t plan on sleeping- the reality of their dire straits would no doubt eat at him until the sun came up, but he’d spend every minute he was up making sure no further harm came to her.

 

Barry thought Iris had already fallen asleep a while later when he heard her rustling around in bed.

When she started to sit up with a struggle Barry lifted his head.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, feeling around her side table. 

He pushed himself up to go help, but he saw her already slipping her closed fist back under the covers. 

From the additional few minutes of rustling, he assumed she was trying to put the piece of jewelry back on.

He waited for her movements to stop before he laid back down. “Good?”

“Hm.” She was fast asleep within seconds.

 

The next morning, Barry was able to catch a few minutes of sleep as the sun inched its way over the horizon.

He didn’t dream, but his mind replayed a memory from just two months ago.

He had entered Oversight feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he could remember.

He hadn’t wanted to come in at all, but espionage didn’t really allow for sick days.

He was two and a half weeks into a predicted month-long field assignment and it was going well.

Though his work was the only thing in his life that could be described as such.

He hadn’t been in the building long before he bumped into Mason Bridge in The Hub. 

Agent Bridge only ever seemed to find a smile for the West women (and for Wally, but it was impossible for someone not to smile at Wally) so the fact that he’d been throwing Barry painfully strained smiles since Iris left only amplified the pity he constantly felt himself shrouded in.

When Mason saw Barry that morning he grinned slowly, showing an unnatural amount of teeth in his grimace before the pseudo smile dropped just as quickly. As if his facial features couldn’t sustain the act. 

“Agent Allen, how are you doing?” Mason asked.

“I’m alright,” Barry said after returning a slightly less-awkward smile of his own.

Mason nodded good-naturedly. “Glad to hear it. Assignment’s still on track?”

“Yeah. Just came to pick up some things from Cisco actually. I think I’ll be wrapping this up sooner than later,” Barry informed him.

“Well that’s good news,” Mason was content that his daily wellness check on Agent Allen had gone well enough. He was about to bid one of his customarily abrupt goodbyes when his eyes locked onto Barry's bare ring finger.

He frowned imperceptibly.

“How's our girl?” Mason asked instead.

Barry was caught completely off-guard by the question and felt his skin grow hot. “I-uh I haven’t. She’s doing just fine I’m assuming,” Barry struggled. 

He cleared his throat.

Of _course_ Mason Bridge would choose to ask about Iris today of all days. 

Barry had decided to try to go the day without it. Or at least try for as many hours as he could. 

He'd worn his ring every day since his wife had walked out on him.

He hadn't once thought about taking it off. Not once in the seven months, three weeks and five days she’d been gone.

But, that morning he’d woken up with such a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He'd studied the ring hard as he got ready and thought maybe that could be the day he finally stopped lying to himself about Iris coming home. 

Mason didn’t respond to Barry’s stuttering so Barry took a step back after a minute, knowing he’d need to excuse himself before his gloomy thoughts embarrassed him.

“I'll have the black box by week's end,” he told Mason.

“Stop by my office tomorrow,” Mason said, his brow still furrowed in thought. “There's some things I want to go over about that mafia sting you have coming up.”

“Oh. Anything I should know?” Barry asked.

“No, I… I just think I'll make a small change. Nothing bad,” Mason assured at the sight of Barry's unease. He gave an actual smile. “In fact, I think it'll be for the good of us all.”

A low groan eventually broke Barry out of his semi-conscious rumination. He woke up to see Iris writhing a little, sweat beading her clavicle. 

She was still asleep, restless and in an obvious amount of pain. 

Barry texted Wally and wet a small towel in the bathroom. 

He carefully climbed into bed beside Iris and gently used the soothing cloth to bathe her forehead and neck. 

He whispers calming nothings until she finally grew still again. 

 

When Iris woke up fully a few hours later, she immediately braced herself for an onslaught of pain from her shoulder, but it never came. 

She cracked an eye open against the bright sunlight and saw Barry listening intently to something on a tablet.

“Why aren’t I dying?” she croaked. 

Barry startled a little and popped out his earbuds.

“Wally got more supplies this morning,” Barry stood, understanding her question. “He had you hooked up to a drip and got you some pain killers so you shouldn’t feel anything anymore.”

Iris smiled in relief. Wally West was unmatched.

“I’ll make you some breakfast and then we can head down to headquarters,” Barry said. 

He handed her a glass of water.

Iris took a sip. “Why would we go to Oversight?” she wondered.

Barry looked at her incredulously. 

“Because you were shot,” he said slowly.

Iris frowned in confusion. “So what? I have my pain medicine now and I’m all stitched up. There’s no need to waste time there.”

“So what?” he repeated in disbelief. “Did you think we were going to shrug it off and keep going?”

Iris blinked at him. “You want to call it? We’re going to let terrorists go free?”

“I’m not-” Barry took a deep breath. “You were shot, Iris. We were targeted. We don’t know why and we don’t know by who. There’s no way the mission can continue the way it has.”

“We’re not overseas alone without any backup. We have to call this in and you have to tag out. I’m going to finish what we set out to do and you’re going to go back to headquarters and recover there.”

“Like hell I am,” Iris countered. “Barry, our odds of finding this bomb and rounding up the Morotta brothers are pretty dismal _together_. We’re not going to save this mission if we’re apart. And even if Mason sends people in, they don’t know the case like we do. They won’t stand a chance of neutralizing this in time.”

Barry had expected Iris to push back, but still, he knew he couldn’t win this battle on no sleep and high emotions. 

“We’re up against some cloaked assassin, the mafia, a phantom bomb, and you with one working arm,” he reminded her tiredly. 

“We've been up against much worse,” she said simply.

Barry shook his head and silently decided to table the discussion for the time being. He had a few hours before he had to make moves.

“Who's Scott?” he asked randomly.

Iris whipped her head in his direction, their discussion instantly forgotten. “What?”

“Scott,” Barry repeated, pulling out her cell phone and handing it over. "He's been blowing up your phone asking if you're alright."

“He was my... we worked together in Brussels. He helped me with the recon," she explained before adding on quickly "For Amanda, I mean."

Barry nodded.

"So what does he want now?" he queried. “And how does he know about yesterday?”

"I don't know," Iris shrugged her good shoulder. "I'm seeing all this the same time you are."

She ignored Barry's piercing gaze as she scrolled briefly through her messages, not bothering to linger too long on any specific one.

“I heard he’s in town. Probably doing some remote work at headquarters. Wally must’ve bumped into him this morning,” Iris surmised.

Barry raised an eyebrow as if that just proved his point.

“Scott’s discreet,” Iris said confidently. “He won’t tell Francine. None of the higher-ups need to know about last night unless you tell them.”

Once she was satisfied there was nothing urgent on her phone, she tossed it aside.

"What?" Iris asked self-consciously when she saw Barry was still watching her intently.

"Nothing," Barry shrugged. He readjusted her pillow and told her she needed to eat something.

Iris wasn’t hungry, but she gave her quick breakfast order for his sake and waited for Barry to exit the room before she sent Scott a text that she was fine.

Iris sighed, silently thanking Wally. She knew if she hadn't been pumped with pain meds, she'd have a massive headache coming on. 

Once Iris heard Barry deep in the throes of cooking, she meandered into the bathroom to shower. 

Though she’d surprisingly managed to make it eight years without ever being shot, Iris was no stranger to showering with slings, bandages, casts, and braces.

She expertly washed away the dried blood, grime and sweat from the night before, only emerging from the bathroom once she felt like she was in her own skin again.

Barry was waiting for her at the dining table with breakfast.

“Thank you,” Iris said sincerely.

“You’re welcome,” Barry said.

“For everything. For last night,” she clarified. “Thank you for getting me here safely. For protecting me.”

“Of course, Iris,” Barry responded intently.

Iris flashed a small smile and tucked into her food.

He watched her eat for a long while and Iris noticed he was just pushing food around his own plate.

It looked like he wanted to say something so she put her fork down and waited.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I was upset and I shouldn’t have said all the things I said. I didn’t mean…”

“Barry,” Iris shook her head, her stomach dropping. “You don't have to say that just because I got hurt.”

Barry opened his mouth as if to say something else, but he clearly faltered. 

Iris swallowed hard. “It's how you felt. You have a right to feel how you feel.”

A silence stretched and Barry rubbed his eyes.

“I’m… glad you got to say what you’ve been holding in this last year,” Iris said, her voice shrouded in an unfamiliar meekness that pierced Barry’s chest.

“That wasn’t- that’s not what I wanted to say to you,” he started.

Iris’s heart picked up at that, but she was far too scared to ask which thing from that night he didn’t mean to say.

“You kissed me,” she said softly, struggling for words to protect herself from a devastating rejection. “I just thought that meant that you maybe wanted to try…”

“I got carried away,” he said slowly using the same line from before. “I don’t know...I don’t think we-”

He sighed harshly, wondering for the hundredth time when talking to her had gotten so hard.

He collected his thoughts and started to try again, but the doorbell cut him off. 

Barry swore under his breath at the interruption. He contemplated if they could stay quiet long enough for whoever it was to go away.

Before he remembered that no one should be knocking on their door at all.

Iris seemed to realize this at the same time and they both froze in their seats.

Barry was the first to move, once again grabbing the small handgun from the counter.

“Wally?” Barry whispered.

Iris shook her head. “He’s already in the air. I saw his text. Laurel?”

“No way to know for sure,” Barry said lowly. He crept through the living room. “Go hide in the guest room.”

Iris ignored him and followed his tip toes towards the door. 

Barry growled her name in warning. Iris blindly grabbed a fireplace stoker. 

“I’m armed,” she said, but she still stopped in the foyer as a compromise.

Barry slinked up to the door just as it rang again and looked through the peephole.

He immediately cocked his gun and gestured for Iris to fall back.

It definitely wasn’t Laurel.

‘Get in the guest room’ Barry mouthed again.

Iris saw his frustration, but she was far too wired to explain to him for the thousandth time why he should never expect her to run away if he was in danger.

She ignored his signals for her to fall back until he had no choice but to concede.

He decided it was better to open the door and play along with the person on the other side than to have them draw their weapons and try to force their way in.

Barry disabled the first level of the security system and opened the door a crack.

He stood right in front of the small opening, no doubt to block Iris from view, and asked if he could help the person.

Iris couldn’t hear what the person said from where she stood, but it was clearly a man’s voice.

She listened to them speak for a few more seconds before Barry surprised her and moved out the way to allowed them to come in.

She gasped when she saw who it was. 

He flashed his usual cocky smirk when he made eye-contact with her across the foyer, but Barry didn’t give him time for more before he locked the front door and re-triggered the security system.

He had his gun pressed against the small of the man’s back just as Iris uttered his name in disbelief.

“Scott.”

“Hands up,” Barry instructed. 

Scott’s smile dropped and he half-turned to Barry.

“Are you really pulling a gun on a fellow agent?” Scott Evans asked incredulously. “I gave you the company's password. I’m Oversight.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Barry said plainly. He nudged his weapon harder into Scott’s back and he finally complied.

Barry kept one hand holding the gun and used the other to pat Scott down carefully. “I've also never seen an agent break protocol like this before, so you can forgive the caution.”

“You can ask your wife to vouch for me,” Scott said haughtily, nodding his head towards Iris.

Barry stopped his search and looked over at a shell-shocked Iris. “You know him?” 

“S-Scott,” she cleared her throat. “That’s Scott. Evans. You asked about him this morning.”

She forced herself to put her surprise and dread on the backburner in order to diffuse an inevitably volatile situation before it started.

Even with the clarification, Barry looked even more suspicious and Scott was shifting his weight as if he was less than impressed.

She stepped towards them, but Barry threw up a hand to stop her.

“How did you know our location?” Barry questioned. 

He hadn’t moved his hand from Scott’s back. 

“I looked up your file,” Scott said.

“You don’t have that type of clearance,” Barry rebutted.

“Trust me, my clearance goes far above yours,” Scott said, rolling his eyes.

“Barry,” Iris drew his attention to her. “He’s okay. Scott is basically Amanda’s number two in Europe. He has the clearance to view all active missions.”

“You can call Amanda yourself and ask,” Scott tried a different angle when Barry still didn’t move.

It was another minute before he finally backed down.

Scott lowered his hands to straighten his tie. He tossed one more look Iris’s way before he turned around and properly introduced himself to her impatient bodyguard.

“Agent Scott Evans,” he greeted, offering his hand.

Barry tucked away the gun and shook Scott’s hand. “Barry Allen.”

“Should we be expecting Agent Waller also?” Barry wondered.

Scott smiled. “We all know even Amanda doesn’t make house-calls. No one knows I’m here. I thought that was best.”

Once Scott was satisfied with their pleasantries, he looked around the house and whistled low. “These are some nice digs. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed somewhere quite this nice on assignment.”

“What are you doing here?” Iris finally asked hoping he'd get to the point.

“You’re injured,” he stated the obvious, pointing to her sling. 

Barry looked between the two of them.

He was incredibly annoyed that Scott Evans had taken it upon himself to not only break protocol just as their own dubious infractions were racking up quick, but to do so at the worst possible time.

He wanted to finish his discussion with Iris. He _needed_ to finish their discussion. But, from the lazy way Scott was walking around their living room, Barry knew he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

And he’d clearly not come all that way to check on him, so Barry excused himself to the shower.

Iris was obviously relaxed with Scott there. 

If she had even the slightly bit of distrust, Barry would’ve been able to tell. But, she seemed alright, albeit a little annoyed, with Scott in the apartment.

Barry just hoped the sooner he let her talk and assure Scott she was alright, the sooner he’d get the hell out.

Scott shook Barry’s hand one last time before he left the room and Barry thanked God that he still didn’t see any dishonesty about Scott’s intentions because there was no way in hell Barry would ever call Amanda Waller willingly for something. 

He heard Iris graciously offer Scott some breakfast before he slipped into the bedroom.

Iris waited until Barry was out of sight before she led Scott to the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the bedroom door click, Iris slapped her plate off the dining table and grabbed the paring knife that flew off it mid-air before rounding on Scott in a flash. 

She had him pressed against a cabinet with the knife tip against his chest before he could blink. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Agent Evans?”

“Woah! What the hell, West!?” Scott hissed indignantly.

“I made myself perfectly clear multiple times about not wanting to see you anytime soon and you show up at my base in the middle of a mission completely unannounced so I need you to tell me what the fuck you think you're doing here.”

“I'm here for you,” Scott said.

Iris pressed the knife further into his chest.

Despite the several inches he had over her and even though she literally only had one fully-functioning arm, Scott had no chance of breaking from her shockingly strong grip.

He finally threw his hands up in surrender. 

“I'm just here to check up on you, Iris. That's all,” he relented.

“Yeah, well you could've just taken the text I sent as the truth. You didn't need to break over a dozen rules to see that I'm fine. Just like I said.”

“Yeah, I'll remember not to bother next time I'm pacing the floors worried about you,” he bit back sarcastically.

Iris back down a little when she was sure he got the message of her anger. “How'd you even find out about last night?”

“Definitely not from a report you or your partner sent in,” Scott said sarcastically. “Do you guys just do whatever floats y’alls boat or…”

Iris rolled her eyes. “You’re really not talking about us breaking protocol right now are you?”

Scott huffed and straighten up his suit. He had a lot of questions about what the hell happened to her but he decided to change the subject.

“So that's the husband, huh?” 

“That’s him,” Iris drawled.

“Seems very… scientific,” Scott settled on. 

“The fuck does that mean?” Iris demanded, just about fed up with him. 

He’d stepped into the penthouse drenched in arrogance and it was grating her already frayed nerves.

“Nothing,” Scott assured. “Just that I could tell he's more used to holding a microscope than he is a gun. His form was off earlier.”

Now she knew he was full of shit. 

Iris taught Barry everything he knew. His form was flawless. 

“Barry’s form is perfect,” she dismissed.

“If you say so,” Scott smirked.

“He’s also not very trusting is he?” he continued. “But, I'm guessing it’s just cause you haven't told him about us.”

“There is no ‘us’, Iris said immediately. “There was a task force in Belgium that we were both a part of. We worked together for Waller every day for eight months and then I came home. That’s it.” 

Scott scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Iris narrowed her eyes at him. 

There was no doubt that Scott Evans was going to become a problem. 

“Telling Barry anything else outside of what I just said will hurt him beyond belief,” Iris said very slowly. Her words dripping in warning. “And if you purposely hurt my husband in that way, I will _kill_ you, Scott. I promise you that.”

“You don’t need to threaten me, West,” Scott told her. She could hear the slight taunt in his voice. The hint of acidity in his tone. “I’ll keep your secrets if it helps you sleep better. I’ll always watch your back.”

Iris stared at him hard, not folding under his gaze. 

She’d forgotten how pushy he could be. 

Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t even be surprised that he’d taken it upon himself to burst through their apartment like he did. Scott Evans had been a surprise last year. Iris never thought she’d meet someone as stubborn as she was until he walked through the door.

She finally capitulated their staring contest. It was only 11 a.m. and she was already feeling dead on her feet.

“Come sit and have breakfast with me,” she instructed wearily. She returned to her seat and slid a plate of crepes across to him. “And then as soon as Barry comes back out, say goodbye to him and go back to work.”

“Sure thing, West,” Scott said, obediently sitting across from her and plating some food.

His sarcasm made Iris want to punch him. 

“It’s West-Allen,” she muttered bitterly.

Iris was counting on Barry’s usually quick showers to send Scott on his way, but she didn’t know that he was taking his time that morning.

With the question of her safety already answered, Barry knew he didn’t really have any reason to hover over Iris as she had a discussion with a former colleague unless he was trying to be possessive.

He’d already felt himself wanting to lean into Scott’s obvious needling earlier. That going on top of the protective rage he’d been stifling since last night and the uncertainty of where their conversation from breakfast would take them warned Barry to just lean back and let the luxuriously hot shower melt down his heightened emotions.

Though he threw a slight wretch in Barry’s plan to convince Iris to walk away from the mission, Scott shouldn’t have been any of Barry’s concern.

Barry wasn’t usually an insecure or possessive guy where Iris was concerned.

A lot of the times he was a little awkward and nervous and definitely more than a little clingy, but he wasn’t too worried about other men swooping in and stealing her away.

It's not that he didn't care when guys ogled at her or flirted with her, because he did.

He just knew that if Iris said she wanted to be with him and only him, he had no reason to doubt her.

Usually that was enough. 

But, since she’d left for eight months and only encountered his rollercoaster of emotions once she came back, that usual security he felt wasn’t there.

So, Scott probably wouldn’t have to do too much to get Barry to indulge in very childish behavior.

Jealousy aside, Barry did have to wonder at the nature of Iris’s relationship with Agent Evans.

She said they’d been partners in Belgium, but what did that mean?

Her using that specific title stung a little.

There was no such thing as official ‘partners’ in Oversight.

You had team members; people chosen based on skill to handle each specific mission, but team members changed with every op. You could work a successful operation with someone and then never see them on the job again.

It was normal. Oversight was a behemoth of an organization that moved in complete invisibility to the outside world. 

That required hundreds of constantly-moving parts and people. The sheer volume of spies alone made the probability of being paired off with one person for long very low.

This was just another way in which Barry and Iris were such anomalies. Somehow they’d made themselves a package-deal.

Barry had worked on every assignment Iris had gone on since she'd graduated. 

The Operations office knew that any planning regarding Iris's missions would inevitably include Barry. 

As her informal partner, Barry handled everything about Iris’s execution of the company goals and about her well-being on assignment. He was the calming, motivating voice in her ear. He was her eye in the sky when she was going in blind. He had her back and her trust completely.

The last time Barry had seen Iris before she left, she’d been like a shell of her former herself. She’d been lost and confused and guilt-ridden. 

Her skin was ashen and her face thin from lack of food. When he saw her again in that hotel bar with her hair short and bouncy, her skin as bright as ever, and her smile just as blinding, he’d been so shocked and grateful even his pain couldn’t make him wonder how she’d changed so much.

But, now Barry couldn’t help but wonder how big of a hand Scott had in Iris coming back to herself.

Barry stayed in the shower a good thirty minutes.

He didn’t expect Scott to still be in the penthouse, but when he stepped back out into the living room afterwards, he was surprised to see Iris and Scott sitting quietly on opposite ends of the couch.

Iris perked up when she saw him, announcing Scott’s departure, and her obvious indifference to Scott made Barry feel almost silly for his musings in the shower.

Until Scott bid her a goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a hug that was blatantly inappropriate in length to all three of them.

Scott quirked the grin that Barry was already tired of and Iris stifled an eye-roll as she took a giant step back.

Scott fixed his tie as he sauntered over to Barry then bid him farewell.

Barry shook his hand one more time. “It was nice meeting you, Seth. And thanks for checking up on us. Amanda’s lucky to have an assistant as thorough as you.”

Scott’s smile fumbled just a little. He righted it quickly. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Barry,” Scott said definitively.

Barry Allen would never admit to being a jealous man. But, he was a big enough person to admit that he was petty as hell.

Iris walked Scott out, closing the door behind him a little more forcefully than was necessary.

“Sorry. If I’d known he was coming I would’ve warned you that he is kind of an ass,” she explained. She started to gather the dirty dishes from the table.

“What are the chances he tells Waller?” Barry wondered.

“Scott’s not like that,” Iris reiterated, putting the dishes in the sink. “He’s a stickler for the rules, but he doesn’t go out of his way to bring trouble. Especially not from Waller.”

He had to take her word for it. Daylight was wasting and he didn’t have time to wait around for the call to come down to headquarters.

“I need to split the day into two parts,” Barry informed Iris. “I need to find out where exactly the bomb is. If it’s still at Angelo and Shelby’s or if Jimmy really stole it.”

“Okay,” Iris agreed.

“And before that I need to find out who targeted you yesterday. If the mafia made us and our cover’s blown then we’re going to have to call in backup and go in guns blazing anyway. That is if the device isn’t already halfway across the country. But, this morning I scoured over audio surveillance from the last week and a half for all three brothers, the wives, the cars, the gallery-everywhere- and I didn’t hear a single thing out of the ordinary. None of the brothers ever even mentioned you outside of asking me if you’d mind when I was working late.”

“Well we’ve already established that Jimmy is off his rocker,” Iris reminded with a tilt of her head. “He’s probably long past discussing trying to murder someone before he does it. And he does have a history of hurting women with no interest in sleeping with him.”

“He was my first thought, too,” Barry said shaking his head, stifling the white-hot anger that surged at the thought. “Last night doesn’t fit his MO in the slightest though. You haven’t been around him in days. And he hasn’t tried anything too forward since he almost shit his pants that night at the bar. If he randomly decided yesterday to hurt you for spurning him, he wouldn’t do it from a distance. His type would want to use his hands, do it up close.”

Iris shifted uncomfortably.

“More importantly though,” Barry continued. “I was with Jimmy all day. His full attention is on the bomb, his brothers and getting even.”

Iris accepted his points.

“So, if our cover’s relatively safe then why do you think…?”

“Do you remember what you told me Linda said happened in Valencia? About the agents who were attacked and killed?” Barry asked.

Iris paused and furrowed her brow. “You think someone knows who I am and tried to assassinate me? That someone is killing Oversight agents?”

“It’s too much of an unexplained coincidence,” Barry said.

“Bear, that’s not a coincidence,” Iris said gently. “For starters, those agents weren’t on assignment. They had no covers to blow. Secondly, all _three_ were stabbed. I was shot. You were standing less than a foot from me and weren’t targeted at all. And third, this all happened two months and 5,000 miles apart.”

“What do you think happened then?” Barry question.

“Case of mistaken identity?” Iris guessed.

Barry shot her a deadpanned look.

“I have no idea who shot me, Barry,” Iris shrugged. “I know it was scary, but honestly without an idea or immediate threat to go on I just don’t see an urgency equal to a literal ticking time bomb.”

“I’m fine now. Hiding underground for God knows how long won’t change what needs to be done. If they were an expert meant to kill me they were sloppy as hell,” she surmised. “They’ll be sloppy again and we’ll be ready.”

Barry tried not to be swayed by the talent of Iris’s charismatic persuasion.

He knew that if the roles were reversed and he’d been the one bleeding on that roof, Iris would’ve driven straight to headquarters; his protests and protocol be damned.

Presently though, if Iris wasn’t in agreement on her own to leave the mission, he knew his hands were all but tied.

Barry sighed.

“It’ll be alright, Barry,” Iris said. “We’re almost done and I’m fine.”

She looked him over, seeing that he was relenting. They didn’t have time for him to doubt her now. They had work to do.

“Okay,” Barry acquiesced. “Grab your coat and let’s go.”

“How much longer do we have to go?” Linda groaned, cracking her back.

She and Cisco were taking a break from bomb squad duties. They were on their way to get some food, using their regular shortcut through one of the many hidden tunnels in the building.

Cisco and Linda had run through the simulation about a dozen times now.

After she’d gotten the procedure down three times in a row, Cisco moved them into a large container that he said was the size of the safe.

She could understand why he needed someone with her flexibility to work with the device. 

The space was _tight_. With her protective gear on and tools she needed, Linda barely had room to move her arms around more than three or four inches. She’d had to maneuver and contour her limbs carefully.

“We’ll just run it one more time and then we’ll call Barry and Iris,” Cisco promised. “You’ve done really, really great Linda. I can’t thank you enough. You completely saved our asses.”

“Don’t mention it, Nerd,” Linda smiled and bumped his hip.

“Soo what’s Agent Reynold’s favorite flower?” he asked raptly.

Linda rolled her eyes playfully. “Please, don’t turn this into a thing where now I’m supposed to be like your relationship wizard. If you want to know stuff about her you’re going have to ask her yourself.”

“Sure, of course,” Cisco agreed. “But, just while we’re on the subject, would you also happen to know if she’s a big fan of French food?”

“Cisco, I’m serious. Don’t start,” Linda laughed. 

“Come on,” Cisco pleaded, walking backwards so that Linda could see his desperation. 

They rounded the corner, neither of them paying attention or noticing a normally poised figure hunched over a thick-looking folder. 

“I need all the help I can get. Besides, you scratch my back and I’ll help you with-”

“Director West! We’re so sorry, we didn’t see you there,” Linda apologized quickly.

Francine slipped her folder under her arm and narrowed her eyes at the intruders who had crashed into her before she recognized Cisco and Linda.

“Agent Ramon. Agent Park. What are the two of you doing down here?” Francine grilled.

“We were just on our way back from lunch,” Cisco said. “Shortcut.”

Francine hummed in acknowledgement. 

She seemed more interested in studying their faces. 

Linda shifted under her boss's gaze while Cisco was used to it.

Francine usually looked at him like that when she was reprimanding over something that most likely had to do with her daughter. 

Francine was hard on Iris. But, she treated Cisco with as much affection as her evasive nature would allow. 

She'd known Cisco since the day he was born. He was even named after her. 

His mother and Francine had built Oversight to its shining glory with only their bare hands and their husbands for support. 

Francine loved Cisco. And for what it was worth, she'd always shown him much more affection than his own mother ever did.

Jimena Ramon thought the sun rose and set with her first-born son, Dante. Iris always joked that Francine and Jimena would each swap one of their children off if they could.

It did seem like his mother’s every wish would be granted if Perfect Iris (Jimena's words) and Dante were her prized offspring and Cisco was just a lowly subordinate she only had to see at board meetings.

Though he harbored resentments for his parent’s spotlight that never seemed to shine his way, he’d always been able to let them roll off his back in service of his own passions.

Iris never really could. 

She didn’t chase after her mother’s approval. She hadn’t felt the need to since she was a child. But, she internalized the idea of never being good enough. Of being an oddball and a screw up that ruffled everyone around her.

Francine taught Iris to be the best. But, she also dropped her in a running marathon with an unattainable goal of perfection.

Cisco caught sight of the folder tucked under Francine's arm and a set of keys she was pressing tightly into her palm.

“Everything alright, Director West?” Cisco wondered. 

“Everything’s fine,” Francine responded. “I was actually just looking for a signal box. You might be able to help me. I thought it'd be somewhere around here if my memory's correct, but I can't seem to find one anywhere.”

Cisco groaned. “No, you were right. One used to be here, but as part of the new integrated system, I absorbed all the boxes into the main communications system.”

Francine frowned. “The signal boxes were the only means of communication by direct line between the Central Ops Annex and the Basements. It kept our doings completely confined within those walls.”

“I know,” Cisco agreed. “But, they were removed so that there wouldn't be any miscommunication. Before it was just one person on each end of a phone having to give a perfect, live play-by-play of a raid or whatever was going on. Now with the new comms, everyone in the room can hear for themselves what’s happening.”

“That's too big a risk for breeches,” Francine shook her head.

“It’s only authorized personnel that are in Operations anyway,” Cisco reminded. “And there’s not an external threat on the planet that could get past my firewalls.”

Francine didn’t look any less convinced and Cisco furrowed his brows.

“I only did what I was told,” he said. “I followed the directive that you and Waller signed perfectly.”

Francine smiled mildly. “Of course, I know. Just doing what you were told.” She waved off her complaints. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’ll just take some getting used to.”

“Agent Park,” Francine said as if just realizing Linda was there. Her no-nonsense lilt making its reappearance. “Why aren’t you in Ghana right now?”

“I uh asked for an extension,” Linda explained quickly. “Agent Ramon needed me here for a few more days. I’ll be on a plane this time Monday.”

Francine nodded once. “Very good,” she said. She took one last look at the walls before she bid them a curt goodbye. 

“Francisco, you look thin,” Francine noted absently before she got too far down the tunnel. “Make sure you’re eating.”

“We actually just got back from-” Cisco tried to tell her again, but she was gone around the bend before he could finish. 

“I told everyone the new comm system was pointless and confusing. But, of course no one ever listens to me.” he muttered looking after her. “That was weird.”

“Very,” Linda agreed. “Why would you have us running and giggling down here if you knew she uses these tunnels?”

“I’ve literally only seen her down here once in my entire life,” Cisco raised a hand defensively. “I was ten and goofing around where I wasn’t supposed to and I stumbled on her and Iris’s dad in a very compromising position.”

He looked a little green at the memory and Linda gasped. “After that, she’s avoided this place like the plague since I started working here.”

Linda tried to hold in her laughter. “Do you think that’s why she was so out of it! She was remembering all the good times she had down here with her husband?”

Cisco shook his head. “If Iris hears you saying that, she’d let that bomb go off on purpose and kill us all.”

Linda grinned. “What? I’ve seen Mr. West. I can’t say I blame Francine.”

They finally emerged back inside the Basements. 

“Scratch that,” Cisco said jokingly. “Iris is just going to kill you.”

 

“Do you see anything?” Barry asked over his earpiece.

“Nothing,” Iris said. “It’s gone. He stole it.”

Barry huffed. “ _God damn it_.”

The first place they'd gone after making sure they weren't being followed was Angelo's house. Iris had been there enough times to easily enter and bypass the security of the house.

She'd gotten in through the fireplace and raced to the home office, prepared to take anyone down in her path, but the house was empty. 

As was the safe. 

Jimmy had slithered out with it right under their noses and they'd been none the wiser.

“I'm coming out,” Iris said. 

Barry skimmed through his laptop while he waited for her return. 

He regretted not tagging the device when they had the chance, but they could risk anyone finding a tracker on it and more importantly, they couldn't risk any interference screwing up accidentally activating it. 

But, they needed a sign of movement now more than ever. 

It was as if the entire Morotta family had virtually disappeared. 

There was no activity on any of the phone trackers, car gps, or any new activity on their bank accounts.

All the cars Barry had flagged were untouched which meant the families had escaped some other way.

“Seems like a _lot_ of interesting things went down last night,” Iris sighed as she got back in the car. “Picked the wrong day to get shot.”

Barry frowned at his screen, ignoring her morbid joke. 

“We know that there was a shipment or something coming to the docks,” Barry thought over. “If that's the last known place that at least one of them was, let's try there.”

Iris promptly agreed.

She kept to herself the piercing pain in her shoulder as she buckled her seat belt. Her slide down the chimney hadn't been as easy as it seemed.

They had worse luck at the docks. 

Whatever had been brought over was long gone. As was any evidence of its existence. 

Two freighter crates had mysteriously caught fire last night and were completely obliterated. 

Barry and Iris had walked away from the scene of police tape and fire hoses quenching the last vestiges of smoke. 

Iris had managed to sweet talk one of the reporters nearby into disclosing that the police were chalking up the incident to a tipped over lantern on one of the ships. 

Barry noticed Iris rubbing her shoulder as they talked.

“What's wrong?” Barry asked.

“Nothing. Just a little sore,” she replied.

Barry checked his watch. “You can take some meds again in an hour.”

“Sure,” Iris agreed distractedly. She tossed him the car keys. “Let’s swing by Laurel’s gallery. Jimmy probably used the storage space last night.”

They had a little better luck at the art gallery, but not much. Though the building was locked up as usual, inside was a bit more carelessly left.

The cocktail bar that hid the entrance to the underground tunnels had been mysteriously left up, allowing them to go down there.

They searched high and low, but there was nothing significant being stored.

Though Barry had spotted some blood along the floor and shreds of cloth and paper.

“Looks like someone got hurt and left in a hurry,” he observed.

“There are prices on this thing,” Iris squinted at one of the tiny pieces of paper, barely making out some writing. “Think it’s a receipt of some kind? Or a bill of sale?”

“Do people even write up bills of sale for illegal things,” Barry asked.

“Good point,” Iris slid the papers in her back pocket. She bent to examine another paper on the floor, but she involuntarily hissed in pain at her careless lurching. 

Barry silently berated himself. He’d lost track of time and forgotten about her medicine. 

“Where’d you put your pain meds?” he asked, walking up to her and reaching into her pockets.

Iris tried to wave him off. “It's fine. I don't think I need them just yet.” 

Barry stopped looking when he felt her pockets were completely empty. “Did you leave them in the car?” 

Iris suddenly found the wall behind him very interesting. “I think I forgot them at the safe house actually.” 

Barry peered down at her. “I handed you the bottle right before we left.”

“I left them on purpose,” she came clean. Barry’s raised his brow, telling her to explain. 

“Codeine makes me drowsy. We need to be on our toes.”

He stared at her, examining her somewhat defensive stance that was weakened by the very subtle hunch of her shoulders, no doubt from pain, that she was trying to hide. 

What was he doing?

Standing so close to her, Barry noticed for the first time tiny beads of sweat along her neck.

There should've been none. They’d been standing in a cold cellar for over an hour.

He ran the back of his hand along the side of her face, wiping away the small bit of perspiration.

Iris didn’t look away from him, but she tried to step away when he slid off her coat draped over her injured side.

Barry pulled her back and the furious glare he pierced her with kept her fixed in place.

He saw the tiny droplets of blood dotting her shirt before the jacket was even fully off.

“You pulled your stitches,” he said.

“The top window was locked,” Iris confessed quietly. She’d lied and told him she’d gotten lucky and found an open window at Angelo’s house while he was in the car. “I had to climb through the chimney.”

“The ch- Iris, what the hell!” Barry demanded.

“I got in didn’t I?” she rebutted defensively. Even she knew that argument was weak. She looked at the floor as she shrugged back into her coat.

Barry scoffed and shook his head. He folded his arms. “If nothing else, I thought at least _this_ would be different when you got back,” he mumbled sadly.

Iris looked at him.

“The job comes first, right?” he asked. “Always.”

Iris was taken aback by his assertion. “That’s not true at all. Is that how you-”

“Not about me,” Barry clarified. “You never put it before us or before your family, but you put the job above yourself. You always have.”

Iris opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but could only swallow hard.

“I can't do this again, Iris. You can't do this to yourself again!” Barry reproached.

“This isn't even the same thing! I just want this finished,” she tried. 

Barry shook his head. “If you wanted this assignment finished you'd just let me call in some backup and let me handle it on my own, but that's not it. You think you have to be the one to stop every bad thing from happening in the world, but you don’t.”

“That’s our job, Barry,” Iris shot back.

“ _This_ isn’t the job,” Barry said putting her own clammy hand to her cheek. “This isn’t the job.” he pointed to her bloody shirt and her sling. “Not slowing down even for a second as your body’s begging you to stop isn’t the job.”

He sighed and tried to be calmer. “It’s not your fault if some things are left to chance or when things go sideways. It's not your fault if you don't stop every single bad thing that can ever happen everywhere. It’s not your fault when people die, Iris.”

Iris heart hammered in her chest. She blinked back tears and smiled a doleful half-smile. “ ‘s just a pulled stitch, Bear.”

Barry wiped her cheek and shook his head. “Morocco was just a summer vacation. Remember?”

Iris sniffed and looked down. 

“The weight of the world isn't on your shoulders alone. No matter what happens down the road, you’re still my family,” he said softly. Iris closed her eyes. “The only family I have besides my dad. I need you to be okay. Alright?”

She nodded. 

Barry stepped back and gestured to the stairs. “It’s time to go. I’ll finish the mission and you’ll go get better at headquarters.”

“And after that?” she whispered needing some kind of _something_.

Barry could always look into the very core of her and make calm seas out of her tears. 

He could gather up the ashes of her pain and build a fire so big it sustained any coming storm.

She’d missed him-this version of him- so, so much. She needed any kind of hope that she could have that again.

Barry took a minute to answer.

“I don’t know, Iris,” he finally answered, shaking his head helplessly. “I don’t know.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time they drove through the gates of headquarters. 

Barry helped her out the car with a promise to check in the next day before he left to pick up Linda.

She and Cisco had been told what had happened before they told them their own good news about the Linda’s success mastering the explosive.

Even though they gave their word, Iris wasn’t really expecting to stay updated on the case until it was over. They had a job to do and they couldn’t very well be on the phone with her all day and night.

Instead, she distracted herself at base.

She got her stitches checked out by one of Wally’s friends. She went to visit Mason, but he wasn’t on campus so she spent hours in his office re-filing his disheveled cabinets after she’d asked his permission and she snooped through some of his computer mission files before exhaustion finally took her.

The next day, she woke up later than she had in years and felt amazing. She stretched her good limbs and took her time showering and dressing in the recruitment center.

She was almost tempted to spend an hour in the training center, but Barry’s words circled in her head and she walked past it.

After a hearty lunch with Cisco and a few hours goofing around in his workshop, she eventually made her way back to Mason’s office for more things to do. 

She surmised she’d probably only need a week or two of her pain meds. And with a little physical therapy, she’d be back to herself in no time.

Iris was sure it was that springy optimism and rose-colored shades she’d woken up wearing that made her gather up some of her paperwork and practically skip to the other end of the administrative wing.

“Hey, mom,” Iris greeted, strolling into her mother’s office.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Francine asked, flashing a smile at her daughter.

“Nothing,” Iris said. She held up the folders in her hand. “I convinced Mason to let me help him with some expense reports. Needed a quiet place to work if that’s alright with you.”

Francine gestured for her to get comfortable.

“What are you doing in here?” Iris wondered.

“Just passing the time until another meeting,” Francine sighed.

She took in Iris’s sweats and t-shirt and knitted her eyebrows. “Did you sleep here last night?”

Iris nodded and moved aside a vase of flowers on a small table. “I got hurt day before yesterday. Thought it’d be best if I recovered here.”

“You got hurt?” Francine repeated suspiciously.

“Nothing serious,” Iris fibbed. “Just a laceration that required a few stitches. But, with the injury, Barry can finish the case more quickly if I’m not in the way.”

“But, if it was nothing serious then why would he finish-”

“-Well we both decided it was best to let him just work alone for now,” Iris clarified, already seeing the rant against Barry on her mother’s lips.

Francine silently studied her before she gave a tiny tsk and turned back to desk.

Iris shifted in her seat uncomfortably. 

Maybe she pushed her luck trying to have a nice moment with her mom when she’d been in high spirits.

Still, she was already here so she might as well try. “So, did you ever find that-”

“-Did you use your ID to log in at Medical?” Francine abruptly questioned, cutting the question off.

“No,” Iris said slowly, confused by the swerve. “Um I just got some pain meds from Nneka and then I slept in Mason’s office.”

“Good,” Francine nodded to herself, relaxing a little. “That’s good.”

Iris raised an eyebrow.

“Medical has been swamped ever since the new recruits started their Silat lessons,” Francine explained breezily. “No need taking up resources there for a stable wound.”

“When is Agent Allen coming to collect you?” she wondered. “Or will you be needing a car?”

“No, I’m-I’m staying here for a few days,” Iris explained.

Francine immediately shook her head. “You need to return to your assignment and see it through.”

Iris blinked at her and Francine sighed harshly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and studied the ceiling hard. She thought for a long minute before she inhaled loudly. 

“Fine,” she relented. She stood and gathered her things. “I don’t have the time to discuss this further, but you can stay in here as long as you like.”

Iris didn’t notice Francine deftly swipe her badge off the desk beside her and Francine tried not to slam her door in frustration as she strutted out.

After her meeting, she’d expected to return to her office and discuss things with Iris calmly, but Francine wasn’t too surprised to see her firecracker of a daughter barreling towards her not far from the administrative elevators.

“You revoked my clearance levels for most of the building?!” Iris interrogated as soon as she was within earshot.

“Please, gather yourself, Iris. There’s no need to be belligerent,” Francine said calmly.

“I’m not being belligerent!” Iris told her. “I’m pissed off. You revoked my clearance _and_ you stole by ID. I literally couldn’t even get into a cafeteria without them calling up an escort! Why would you do that?”

“You lied to me. You told me repeatedly that you were up for this assignment and you lied,” Francine explained. “I can’t trust you. And if I can’t trust you, why should I clear you to roam the halls doing whatever you please.”

Iris’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“It’d probably be best if we spoke in my office,” Francine responded looking down the hall.

“Why?” Iris scoffed. “No one’s around. We might as well just get the judgement and the lecturing out of the way right here.”

“Excuse me?” Francine reeled back.

“I’m _injured_ ,” Iris stressed bitingly. “And you’re somehow annoyed by that, mom. No asking if I’m okay. No asking how it happened, just passive aggressive sighs and gritted teeth.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Iris,” her mother waved her off. “Did you and Barry agree to sending you back here because you were hurt or because it got too much to work together again after all this time. I know he’s been struggling.”

“Are you serious?” Iris sputtered, fed up with the dark cloud her mother constantly tossed her way.

Leave it to Francine West to make Iris feel like an inconvenience and a problem in any situation.

“Sweetheart, I really don't have the time for drama or hysterics today,” Francine sighed stepping past her. “I'm sorry, I don’t.”

“My God. Mom, no one even asked you to do a single thing! I just wanted to sit in your office! How the hell do you always turn and twist something simple!” Iris erupted.

“Because you’re asking me to excuse you from an assignment that you have a commitment to,” Francine shot back. “An assignment that Mason personally asked you to see through. You seem perfectly fine to me, Iris. You’re upright and walking and you’ve suffered _much_ worse so I don’t know why me asking you to do your job- your first job in a year here- was inconsiderate. You slipped up then you patched yourself up so if it’s not about you and Barry and your relationship issues then now would be the time for you to leave and finish your job.”

Iris shook her head and scoffed. “The fact that you don’t even have any information and yet have already started your-”

“How did you hurt yourself?” Francine interrupted with derision.

“I didn’t hurt myself,” Iris muttered bitterly. “I got hurt.”

France rolled her eyes, clearly not believing.

“You were probably being your typical impulsive self weren’t you? Or Barry was being his and you just dove head-first after him like you always do,” Francine scolded. “You haven’t been able to follow anything through in so long, I don’t even know if I could count on you to water my plants for a week! This flightiness you’ve adopted, honey, is unbecoming and frankly, yes, it’s annoying.”

“My flightiness?” Iris fumed, hurt. “Anytime I’m not a robot running on autopilot like everyone else here you say that I’m being reckless. You don’t give a shit about my own well-being regarding how I do my job, what’s best for my relationship with Barry, how I operate day to day. It’s always about following whatever rigid set of standards you’ve decided to put on me!”

“You have always been impetuous, Iris. Always. And I've always been the bad guy for making sure your reckless ambition didn't lead you straight off a cliff. And I succeeded for most of your life. And then you found Barry. Barry who's just as reckless as you are and who is just as stubborn and who was there to listen day and night as you wailed about how hard life has been with your controlling, cold mother,” Francine said scornfully.

“I put you through this program so that you would be great not so you can run away every time something gets a little hard. I did it so that you could cultivate and master what was always inside you,” Francine stressed. “Because you were _born_ great, Iris Ann West. And you refuse to see it.”

Iris laughed humorlessly. “How can I see it when you smack me down at every single turn? When you want me to exist in a vacuum with no time for empathy or pain of any kind,” she rebutted, fiercely swallowing down tears.

“Oh here we go,” Francine rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know I didn’t coddle you enough growing up. That’s why you stopped trying to reach your full potential. I don’t baby you. That’s why you’re here choosing to do some damn _paperwork_ instead of going out and saving the world. I’m eager to hear how Barry didn’t pamper you enough so that’s why you left the mission now or why you left us to stay in Belgium for so long.”

Iris felt the wind knock out of her. 

Her mother was a lot of things. She was cold and standoffish and she demanded perfection, but she wasn’t cruel. 

Not for the sake of just being cruel. But, there was a fire in her eyes now. One Iris had never seen before.

“How could you say that?” Iris said, deflated.

“What? You thought you can speak to me as if you have no home training because you’re upset? That you can continuously hurl every hurtful accusation a mother could hear and make me the evil reason for all of your actions, but that we never have to discuss your own accountability?” Francine returned.

“I thought pairing you two together for this would be for the good of the company, but now I see I was wrong. Again. What you do has consequences and this has been a long time coming,” she continued completely fired up now. “The two of you eloped, not even twenty years old. You both ignored every warning, every piece of advice from all three of your parents and now that things are hard, you're both looking for a way out and anyone to blame.”

“You’re so wrong,” Iris shook her head. She was slowly losing the battle of not getting emotional.

Her mother knew where to hit. 

“Well, blame your own impulsiveness, Iris,” Francine ignored her. “You were impulsive getting married, you were impulsive last year in Morocco, you were impulsive when you up and left that boy in the middle of the night with no warning, and now that you're back and you see the results of all that recklessness, you've come here looking to blame me for everything I warned you against.”

"No, mom, I'm not,” Iris gritted out. “I don’t blame you. I was just looking for a few hours of you being even remotely understanding. Or at the very least of you having the bare minimum of compassion for me recovering in peace."

She backed up. “But, I always forget that's asking for too much when it comes to you.”

“No,” Francine shook her head. “You don't get to storm up on me and talk to me like that and then storm off when you're done!”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek but she stayed.

Francine softened her voice. "You're a fighter. You always have been. You fight for what you think is right and you fight for the people you love. Believe me I know. But, last year you tried to fight the way of the world and you lost. And people you loved got hurt. They are _still_ hurt. You will learn from that so something like that never happens again. But, you can’t do it hiding in here. Okay?”

“You’re completely wrong,” Iris said again. “Barry and I were working fine together. He didn’t send me away because he was upset about me leaving. It was for the best. For me and for the mission.”

Francine gave up, finally throwing her arms up in defeat. “Iris, I just need to know if you’re leaving or not. The reason for you coming back here is irrelevant at this point.”

“I’m not,” Iris said definitively. “My ‘impulsive’ decision would’ve been to stay on and finish the operation even though I wasn’t at my best. I know you don’t agree, but this is good. Me being here is good.”

It was Francine’s turn to bite her cheek until she tasted a hint of copper. She looked back once more down the hall.

“If your...sojourn with us today is not about you leaving for Europe, maybe Barry was feeling the weight of certain things that transpired before you left last year?” she broached slowly.

“What?” Iris said.

“Is this all about that- that Spivot girl?” Francine questioned. 

Iris took a full step away from her mother.

Patty Spivot.

She hadn’t thought about her in months.

She didn’t want to start now.

“No, mom. Can you please just understand what I’ve been saying-”

“I swear that girl was the epitome of incompetence," Francine continued on as if Iris wasn’t speaking. "She shot a civilian after you left. Did you know that? Shot a man at point blank range because she mistook his wallet for a handgun.”

Francine scoffed and fixed her lapel.

Iris was silent.

“I sent her packing so fast, she barely had time to turn in her badge.”

Francine stopped and peered at her daughter. “Though Barry didn't seem sad to see her go. I thought they were friends.”

Iris breathed sharply, but kept silent.

“Was he sleeping with her?” Francine finally asked bluntly. “Is that why you left the way that you did last year? Is that why you left yesterday?”

Iris felt her throat closing up. “How did y-” Iris shook her head. "No, mom, I said I just needed to-”

“I’m the director of the top espionage agencies in the world.” Francine spoke over Iris. "You think I don’t notice something as banal as my dutiful son-in-law joking and yipping like an overeager puppy with some silly, trigger-happy blonde in the company parking lot?”

"And even if I hadn't noticed, people talk,” Francine said. “Especially when an affair involving the Director's son-in-law is brazenly happening right under her nose. Then _everyone_ talks.”

Iris put her head down and closed her eyes tightly. She tried to block out what her mother was saying, but the images were flying around in her head.

Iris had noticed it too.

The glances, the clandestine smiles from across the room.

Patty and Barry huddled together, supposedly going over reports, but sitting just a tad too close to each other.

Barry storming out of the house after a rough night and not coming back for hours.

Iris wandering into Oversight the next day to apologize and finding Patty putting her hand on him in comfort as they talked in his lab.

She’d seen it all.

And apparently so had everyone else.

She felt blindsided now and her face was burning up and for Christ’s sake her mother still would not just-

“Shut up,” Iris snapped, cutting off Francine’s diatribe. “Can you please, just shut up!”

“He didn’t sleep with her. We both know that, mom. But, God I know you would’ve loved if he had, wouldn’t you?"

Francine glared at Iris.

“It’s what you'd been waiting eight years for,” Iris accused. “Barry helped me see past a life that I never even really chose for myself and you've hated him every single day for it. You’ve hated me for it too.”

“It’s obvious with what you’re doing now,” Iris cried, officially losing her battle with her tears. “Even after Morocco, you couldn’t even be kind or look past your insatiable need to be right all of the damn time.”

"Morocco?” Francine breathed in disbelief. “You wanted comfort and a hand to hold after what you did in Morocco!? After all that chaos and all the blood that was spilled, I was supposed to look you in your eyes and tell you that you’d done something right?”

Francine gently cupped Iris’s face. 

She studied her before her mouth turned up in a sad smile. “My beautiful, intelligent, strong daughter. I don’t hate you, Iris. I never have and I never could. You are a joy, my love. You are my very heart. Truly. But, in so many ways you continue to be my _greatest_ disappointment.”

Iris had nothing else to say.

Her mother had cracked open her chest and pummeled her heart.

She’d snapped and stabbed in every way that could hurt and Iris wasn’t even fully sure why it’d come to this.

Perhaps it was years in the making, but every tense standoff-every stilted argument and impassioned lecture did nothing to prepare her for this complete and total annihilation.

Her devastation and her shock were on full display.

Her outweighing confusion was so thick it could be grabbed and malleated.

And that tiny switch she always kept locked and turned off- the switch that held closed the gate to every impulse she had against self-destruction against wreckage and pure rage- cracked.

Francine saw the second those things flashed across Iris’s eyes.

She easily slid the folders Iris had been clutching out of her hands and straightened the crumpled folds as best she could.

Francine’s air of calm returned once more and she glanced once at her daughter.

“Please, do not step foot back in this building until you’re ready to apologize for everything you’ve said to me tonight, Iris,” Francine requested politely before she breezed past a stoic Iris and walked to her office.

 

Iris couldn’t say how long she stood in that empty hallway.

Later, she’d recall feeling like she’d been the subject of a photo series. Her movements felt like they were happening within the flashes of a camera.

Much was lost to the spaces of blackness in her mind.

She didn’t know how she made it from the edge of the administrative wing to the Central Operations Annex before anyone stopped her. 

She was vaguely aware of purposely bumping into a senior officer and side swiping his clearance badge.

She had a faint recollection of rapidly scouring the geolocational database for a long stretch, tucked into a corner office no one would find her in, but she couldn’t say what she’d been searching for or why she’d chosen certain key indexes.

Either way, she remembered using the backdoor channels she and Cisco had created when they were recruits to bypass their restricted access.

As she cross-referenced coordinates with her watch and grabbed a gun and a set of car keys from Mason’s office, Iris didn't feel the need to call Barry or Cisco.

When she made sure to leave through the Basements to toss the stolen key card and her arm sling into a laboratory incinerator, Iris felt only the rush of fire under her skin.

That ruin she loathed to bring with her now fueled her every step. She relished in her gift. She basked in the power of her destruction.

She found who she was looking for several towns over, isolated on the edge of a bustling metropolitan.

He’d set up a small tent, most likely to protect himself and his investment from the light drizzle coming through the open roof of the abandoned warehouse he was holed up in.

He was in the midst of muttering angrily to himself when Iris slinked up alongside the building.

She didn’t try to be quiet. 

She _wanted_ him to hear her coming. She wanted her footsteps to echo throughout the empty space. To be the countdown to his demise.

But, he didn’t hear her.

And he nearly jumped out of his skin when, suddenly, she was right there with him cocking her gun, telling him to get the fuck on the ground.

Jimmy dropped his radio with a clank, clamoring backwards and bumping into his small workbench.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Get. The. Fuck. On the ground,” Iris repeated waving her gun to the floor between them. “Now.”

“Nicole, what the fuck are you doing? Wh-what the-” Jimmy sputtering, totally confused by the sight before him. 

Iris could smell the liquor reeking off him, even from where she stood.

His eyes were wild as they danced around the warehouse, no doubt trying to latch onto some scrap of reality to make sense of his wife’s seemingly meek dinner pal standing in the middle of his hideout wearing a bulletproof vest and waving around a gun.

“Did-did Laurel send you? Is that what- what are you doing here?” Jimmy stammered.

“Jimmy, I’m not going to tell you again,” Iris told him.

“Now listen just-”

Iris stalked over and pistol whipped him upside the head.

He went down hard. “Jesus _fuck!!_ ” he cradled his head. 

Iris ignored him. She stepped over him and surveyed his work station.

The dirty bomb was front and center locked up tight in its inconspicuous case with scattered schematics and some tools.

“Been busy, Jimmy?” Iris tossed his way.

Jimmy's wild confusion seemed to be tamed by the hit to the head. He watched her slowly walk around his small camp.

She unraveled a large map. It was of an area with a large concentration of buildings. Mostly residentials. And two schools.

Iris practically spit in disgust.

“You’re a real piece of shit, Jimmy Marotta,” Iris said. She checked the bomb case and saw that thankfully it was deactivated. 

He was probably planning on striking that very night.

Iris leaned down and sneered at him. “I cannot watch to watch you burn.”

“Laurel didn’t send you did she?” Jimmy rasped.

Iris rolled her eyes and straightened up. 

He really was the dumbest of all the brothers.

He was also the most corrupted. The most destructive. And now, she’d finally stop him.

Iris surveyed the open floor plan before them. 

The building was a clear firetrap; there was no doubt about it. 

It wouldn’t take much gasoline to send the entire place up in flames. She could bury the bomb right where they stood now. She could call in a threat to the closest neighboring blocks and once everyone was evacuated, she could let the heat and pressure of the fire detonate the device, engulfing all of the danger in one fell swoop. No innocent civilians in the crossfire. No lives lost. Save for just one.

“What do you want with me?” Jimmy wondered after moments of her silence. “Are you here to turn me in? Hear what happened to Angelo? What?”

Iris ignored him and continued to deliberate. 

Mason would be upset with her, there was no doubt about that. He’d wanted Jimmy in federal prison for whatever he planned next and he wanted the crime family handled by the book and with discretion.

Setting off a powerful explosion wasn’t being discrete. But, she couldn’t help that now. They’d spent nine weeks moving in the shadows and it’d done nothing.

Jimmy would’ve succeeded in his attack if Iris hadn’t crashed in on him today. There was no telling if Barry would’ve caught up to him in time.

Barry.

He would be the most upset of all. She hadn’t listened to him. She’d gone behind his back and caused a mess. 

He’d yet to forgive her transgressions the first time. What would be left of them after this?

Iris blinked hard. She couldn’t think of that now.

Her mother was right; weakness had no place in what they did for a living.

“Did Michael tell you what my family does? Me and Mike are friends, he can vouch for me, I have nothing against you and your family.”

Follow through was her only option now. Half-measures only hurt the innocent.

She kept her gun trained on Jimmy as she locked in on a can of lighter fluid nearby. She easily unscrewed the cap and began splashing the liquid on the scattered debris.

“ _Shit_ , shit, Nicole, just fucking listen to me alright,” Jimmy started to scramble to his feet. “You don’t want to do this!”

Iris turned and shot right by his feet, sending him ducking back down on the floor for cover.

“ _Listen_ to me, please!!” He begged in terror. That chaotic confusion returning. “Listen, do you want money? Want me to fire Michael so he’s not in this shit anymore, I’ll do it all, you don’t have to worry! Don’t do this, alright? You’re not thinking rationally. You’re being hysterical!”

When she was satisfied with the ground being sufficiently saturated she tossed the empty can.

She’d need to find some thick enough rope and a shovel to tie Jimmy up while she dug a nice, snug hole for the bomb.

“Laurel’s pregnant, okay?” Jimmy tripped to get the words out. “She’s pregnant. We’re having a baby and she needs me. I don’t know what happened, but you can’t do this to your friend’s husband! Please!”

She looked over at him. 

She could vaguely remember a mention of Laurel being pregnant the other day from Barry.

She didn’t know if it was true. Laurel hadn’t been chugging wine like it was water the other day at lunch so it might be.

If it was, if she’d gotten pregnant by this homicidal, demonic piece of shit, then she was the dumbest girl in the whole world.

Jimmy took Iris’s halted movements as a sign that he was getting through to her. “Let’s just talk about why you’re doing this and then we can figure this all out.”

Iris tilted her head in thought.

She’d have to knock him over the head with something heavier than her gun to render him unconscious while she looked for rope, she decided.

She swept up a medium-sized slab of concrete with one hand, keeping the other firmly on her trigger. She was faintly aware of the stabbing pain from her injured shoulder at the great strain.

Jimmy shook his head pitifully. “What about Laurel, Nicole? What about our family?”

“What about Mia?” Iris wondered darkly. “What about _her_ family? What about the families of the people were planning to murder today? What about them?”

All at once, the wretched pleas in Jimmy’s eyes and on his lips dried up.

A shadow fell across his face and any confusion he had about what the convoluted turn of events had rung dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

He stopped breathing heavily and the familiar looked of unhinged entitlement slithered back into his eyes.

“Who are you?” he sneered. 

“I’m the one who’s going to make you pay for everything you’ve done,” Iris replied calmly.

She chucked the concrete off to the side. It was too late for that now.

Jimmy was enraged and he was cornered. The black stench of his soul had permeated out into the world and attracted a goddess of deadly retribution and he had been none the wiser. 

Iris had no doubt he’d fight back now. 

She was proven right when he carefully rose to his feet and carefully cracked his neck.

And that was fine. 

No matter what, she’d have his blood this day. Perhaps, they’d both go up in the flames. Perhaps the world would shine twice as brightly for that.

She was the bringer of ruin after all.

There was no place for her among the living. 

Perhaps it was time that her reign of destruction came to an end.

That way no one else would have to look her in the eyes and see their own misery staring back at them.

Jimmy didn’t break eye contact as he took one small step towards her. “You’ve made a big fucking mistake.”

Iris appreciated the fact that he had enough blood on his hands to recognize a dance with death when he saw one.

She stepped once more into his living area. 

There’d be no more mistakes on her end. There would be no more hesitation where there should swift fury.

She would destroy him and his family. And then she’d wear the name proudly from now on. 

The name-

_**“Iris!”** _

She froze. Her heart stopped.

“Iris, what are you doing!” 

Or maybe her heart finally started beating for the first time that day.

Barry.

She turned her head a fraction and saw him standing there in her peripheral. 

“What are you doing here?” she questioned calmly, as if she wasn’t standing in the middle of a condemned building, reeking of gasoline, in a standoff with a murderer.

She could hear him breathing hard. He’d been running.

“The bomb?” he asked at once. 

“It’s over there,” Iris directed at the table.

Jimmy hissed. He probably hadn’t thought she’d recognize it.

“Iris, what are you doing here?” Barry tried again. He stepped towards her, keeping his eyes trained on Jimmy for even the slightest movement.

“Michael,” Jimmy growled, enraged, putting another piece of the puzzle together.

Barry didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d finally tracked the youngest brother to this hideout, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He took in the trail of dark red blood dripping down from Jimmy’s temple and the blood on Iris’s hand.

The old building reeked of lighter fluid and Jimmy looked as deranged as Barry had ever seen him. 

There was only blackness in his eyes.

He ignored Jimmy and rushed to Iris’s side. “What happened?” 

“I found him here,” Iris said lowly. “He was hiding out, looks like he was trying to work on the explosive. He was probably going to strike tonight.”

“I know,” Barry said. “I tracked him down to that meet-up spot they love so much. Angelo was there, too. It looks like Jimmy killed him for the bomb.”

Iris sighed and shook her head.

“That was mighty stupid of you to think you could come into my life and try to kill me over some dumb slut who didn’t know her place,” Jimmy reproached. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and he wanted the attention back on him. Back on his fury.

Barry got fully in between Jimmy and Iris, but the crime boss wasn’t his concern. There was something in iris’s eyes that gave him pause.

“You didn’t stay in headquarters,” he observed, needing to know how the hell she’d gone from recovering safe and sound at the company, to standing here sans sling in the company of a bomb and a terrorist.

He also needed to know just how the hell she beat him here.

“I used satellites and Cisco’s ShadowNet to narrow down the location based off the bomb radiation signatures,” Iris explained, ignoring the question he verbalized to answer what she knew he’d ask next. 

“We can just kill him. Just burn this place to the ground and be done with it,” Iris blurted out.

“That’s not our directive,” Barry said.

“Fuck the directive,” Iris rebutted. 

He peered down at her and looked her over carefully. “What happened, Iris?”

Iris didn’t answer.

Her eyes were wild with fire, but Barry could tell she was very slowly coming down.

“Jimmy’s done,” Barry said hoping to help her along. “Look at him. He’s not going to hurt anyone else again. The bomb is secure. No one’s in danger. It’s over. We don’t need to kill him.”

Iris finally looked away from Jimmy and let Barry’s words sink in. 

She looked around. “Where’s Linda?”

“We split up. She was sure Jimmy was already setting up the bomb in town so she went there. I’ll call her.”

“ _Iris_ ,” Jimmy growled slowly, trying out the name he’d heard on his tongue. 

It sounded like poison.

“I'm gonna kill you,” he promised, almost gleefully. 

He didn’t try to stand up again now that Michael was there, but he locked eyes on his prey. He couldn’t say if it enraged or thrilled him that she stared back at him defiantly.

“I'm gonna take what you owe me first,” Jimmy decided. “And then I'm going to kill you.”

He looked Barry’s way. “I’ll let you watch before I kill you too.”

Iris saw the hand gripping Barry’s gun tremble just a little.

He cocked his head and turned his phone back off before he could finish dialing Linda’s number.

Jimmy had no confusion about Michael’s stare. 

It filled him with rage. No, not Michael, Jimmy reminded himself. If Nicole was a fake name, he could only guess what Michael actually went by.

That fucking four-eyed giraffe had double-crossed him. He’d sat in his home and he’d broke bread with his family all while planning to end him. 

Jimmy would make him suffer the longest.

They thought they had him. 

They thought he was cornered and lost, but they underestimated him.

Everyone always underestimated him.

It’d be for the last time.

“Or maybe I’ll kill you first,” Jimmy considered. “I’ll kill you and then just take _Iris_ with me. She won’t have to end up like Mia. I could have her anytime I wanted that way. With that injury she wouldn’t even put up a fight.”

Jimmy felt a blinding pain in his leg before he even finished his sentence.

Barry had shot him right above the kneecap.

He didn’t even let Jimmy’s howl of pain echo throughout the building before he was on him, pounding him with every ounce of strength he had.

Jimmy could’ve laughed with pleasure. He’d been right. 

He’d seen the way Michael looked at his wife. The way the fucker couldn’t sustain that fucking cool and calm act he had when she was in the room. Michael always watched her like a hawk. 

Jimmy didn’t even have to threaten his worst to get the man to blackout.

His anger forced him to try and land a punch or two in return, but Michael was showing him the wrath of a god.

“Barry. Barry! That’s enough.” Jimmy heard to the side of them. “Barry!”

Iris had known what was coming before Barry had even raised his gun.

The last few days had all been too much too quick and everyone had their breaking point. Even him.

Barry thought she didn't see it. What he tried to hide so deeply from her over the years. The part of him that he was _terrified_ would scare her away the most. 

His rage. 

But, she knew him. Every part of him. 

And she had to wonder how he hadn’t gotten so tired constantly holding it in.

But, she couldn’t let Barry kill Jimmy with his bare hands after he’d had to waste such precious time talking her off the ledge. 

She knelt beside him, giving all her attention to stopping her husband before it was too late.

That’s the only reason she could have for carelessly dropping her gun on the ground within Jimmy’s reach.

She’d just pulled Barry back when Jimmy grabbed her gun and fired.

The bullet whirled right between their heads, missing both of them by centimeters.

Barry’s weapon had shuffled off somewhere during his scuffle with Jimmy so all they could do was dive to the ground as Jimmy wildly fired again.

Barry had done a number on his face and his eyes were already swelling. What little sight he retained was being marred by the blood dripping down his head. 

Jimmy fired successive shots at the shapes he could make out, hoping he hit his targets before he abandoned his revenge for escape.

He grabbed whatever he could touch from his workbench and swiped at the dirty bomb before he shuffled out.

He kept firing as he limped out of the warehouse, shouting every curse he could muster in his wake.

Barry and Iris waited until the bullets had stopped flying before they stood up and took stock of the other.

They were both unharmed. Jimmy had missed them.

Barry found his gun a few feet away and Iris grabbed a bag of zip ties she’d noticed over by a broken wheelbarrow.

“Come on let’s grab him,” Barry sighed.

Jimmy was most likely concussed, had a bullet in his femur and was about to wander into a dark forest.

He wouldn’t be getting very far at all.

Iris followed him slowly.

It was only by chance that she glanced at the case on the workbench.

She almost walked on, but did a double take when she noticed flashing numbers displayed that hadn’t been there before.

“Barry,” she choked out, rushing to the device and gasping. 

“He turned it on!” Iris exclaimed, pointing to the clock that had already begun counting down.

She met Barry’s panic-stricken eyes across the table. “He set off the bomb!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hope it's clear from the cliffhanger why splitting up the chapter wouldn't work when it's already a two-parter. 
> 
> I honestly don't know when I'll have another chapter up. I wish I could say, but the reason this even got done was because not celebrating the holidays this year gave me a lot of empty time and I just found myself wrote to distract myself from everyone else's festivities.
> 
> Thanks for everyone's really genuine concerns and encouragements. You guys are all really amazing. ❤❤


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